The butcher-bird is perched, like sentinel of stone -
Unmovable and steady as the mountain -
Upright upon a branch, protruding there alone,
Standing guard against the fountain
Streaming down across his lethal gaze.

The butcher-bird aflash now spots his evening prey,
And leaps from off his fragile pillar.
His talons like a sword, have earned their meaty pay;
Returning to the branch a killer,
He skewers upon his perch the victim dazed.

The butcher-bird, the reaper-bird is calling,
Who feasts upon the living as the dead.
A little ave from out his perch is falling,
And swooping down to fill all earth with dread.