I. Jisei-Sonnet:
The Heraclitan Bird Prepares For Death

Denied by all, the black and cursèd bird
Encased within the pang of pain and grieving,
And painted with a crest that sang deceiving,
Defied the world -- corrupting all they heard.

By savage river hid from land absurd,
It made its rest in thorny nest believing
Rewards of love were never its achieving;
Deservèd of the judgement for its word.

To wander on in aimless wingèd travels --
How suffering had made its spirit fled,
Exiled, in crisis cries its frame unfed;

Exhausted still, its little will unravels --
Near setting sun, its world undone in red;
Defiled, the thirsting flame engulfs the dead.

II. Eudaemon-Sonnet:
Resurrection Of The Heraclitan Bird

Return to earth, that brought your birth, in ash:
Inside your hell, and raised unwell, your singing
Sounds silent now -- at last these notes quit ringing --
Ensnared, your toil within the soil would clash.

But many beasts were phased by such a lash;
Instead the spirits mourn, as fountain springing --
Resolve to live, and leave your sorrow -- clinging,
Despaired the beasts -- so torn at brethren’s crash.

For as they spoke that futile seeming prayer --
Like alchemy allows the metal turn --
You thus awoke with joyous croak! The urn

Now breaks in hopeful flight -- you take to air --
O’er world of bliss, without the worlds that burn,
When fresh, with kiss to heaven, you return.