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The morning dawns,
with the pellucid rosy tint on the buds,
The rustle of the perfunctory cool breeze, .
awakens the birds and the bees.
Afternoon comes,
with a myriad shimmer of gold on the leaves
Opening up,
my dormant buds in full bloom.
The vacuous firmament is dimming,
The effulgent sun is descending,
The esoteric moon is peeping slowly,
And the lustrous stars are out in rows.
Listen,
to the whispers and the twitters of the birds,
Nestling homewards bound,
Hear,
the gentle velocity of the waters of the rivulet,
Swirling there a dance
Then,
comes the dying of the light,
A closing of the tableau
And hush! A sound of silence.
ANJALI SINHA
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