Two and four and eight and birds

Pennsylvanian Craig Czury works as a travelling poet in schools, homeless shelters, prisons, mental hospitals, and community centers around the world.  Czury sent me the following translation, "Writing Sheet," by Willie Westwood of a poem by Jacques Prévert (1900-1977) -- the original French version  may be found at Westwood's site (scroll down).

     Writing Sheet   by Jacques Prévert

     "Two and two are four
     Four and four are eight
     Eight and eight are sixteen
     Repeat!" says the teacher.
     Two and two are four
     Four and four are eight
     Eight and eight are sixteen
     But look! The lyre bird
     That flies in the sky
     The child sees it
     The child hears it
     The child calls it
     "Save me.
     Play with me
     Little bird"
     And so the bird descends
     And plays with the child
     "Two and two are four…
     Repeat!" says the teacher.
     And the child plays
     And plays with it…
     Four and four are eight
     Eight and eight are sixteen
     And sixteen and sixteen are what?
     Nothing are sixteen and sixteen.
     Certainly not thirty-two,
     Anyway,
     And they're gone.
     The child caught the bird
     In his desk
     And all the children
     Hear its song
     And all the children
     Hear the music
     And eight and eight are gone away,
     And four and four, and two and two
     Clear out on their turn
     And one and one are not one or two
     One by one, they've left too
     And the lyre bird plays
     And the child sings
     And the teacher cries,
     "When will you stop clowning around?"
     But all the other children
     Listen to the music
     And the classroom walls
     Crumble softly
     And the windows become sand
     The ink becomes water
     The desks become trees
     The chalk becomes a cliff
     The pen holder becomes a bird.