The Song Of Nightingale Poem by Obhiraj Nandi

Before going to bed last night,
I saw a brown nightingale on branches,
And then it sang a lovely song,
On which every bird dances.

That song which enchanted me,
Hovered in my room so long.
Whose power knew no bound,
A sound so mighty and so strong.

And the nocturnal birds awake,
Danced at the beauty of the tune,
Or just carefully listened to it,
Or went away too soon.

And the tune that it sang,
Like a cradle hummer,
In midst of trees and birds,
Of the late night summer.

Rarely are seen such birds,
Seldom do we see them,
People catch them here and there,
Whene'er these outsiders came.

For the beauty of the tune
A thought had just struck,
Arose my greed to capture it,
But I didn't challange my luck.

The tune is better than all
More beautiful than the song of robin,
More beautiful than the grace of peacock,
A tune which can make one sobbin'.

Paradise to earth and to earthlings,
Better than the rock and pop today,
Sweet song of that nightingale
Which sprang up this day.

Till the late night it sang
And didn't let me sleep.
Heavenly and sweet nightingale,
Is now what I want to keep.

But I heard rumble in the bushes
Some other human was with me,
For his camouflage and the dark,
Was the reason that I couldn't see.

Then the nightingale stopped it song,
And I heard a key twisting in the lock,
And a shadowy creature running away,
With a bird in his stock.

It was the last free song,
Of that cradle hummer
And I weeped on my bed
On that late night summer