I had awakened after a profound sleep I suppose
My mind on the sly had been rambling
Among the romantic music of nature.
Oh! How delighted I was
To hear those creations of nature, I can never surpass
Oh! How lovely and sweet were they?
In that dead silence of the night,
Refreshing the foliage in my garden,
Unceasingly drizzling like little pebbles of sand
From above, gently strewn
Making fine music sli…sli…sli…sli…sli…sli…sli…sli…sli
That went on non-stop
In the dead silence of the night,
From the edges of the roof
And leaves atop I suppose,
The dripping of water to the rhythm of
Tah…tah…tah…tah…tah…tah…tah…tah
Made no distinction in the beat or
Whatever the tongue is.
In the dead silence of the night,
Elsewhere, to the accompaniment of
Tah…tah…tah…tah…tah…tah…tah…tah
The chirping of a cricket isolated,
Made fine music…creek…creek…creek…creek…creek…creek…creek
Stealing my mind, to ramble through
The gifts of nature.
So I inferred that,
The perception of sounds
Irrespective of race, creed or colour
Speaking different tongues was the same.
Yet, different tongues spoken by different races
Mean, a system of vocal sounds
Associated with situations.
And in the dead silence of the night
My mind had been straying
Through that romantic situation,
During which I had fallen
Into a slumber again. |
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