The starling mother lost a child,
and calls from dusk to dawn;
she perches on the roof above
her cry is quite forlorn.
’Where are you, little one;
oh, where, where can you be?
Can’t you hear me calling;
can’t you fly to me?”
The starling mother, three days now,
has called with piteous cry:
”Come back my little baby bird;
come back, fly back, please try.”