Far away from the secular noise,
In rain tinkle the clogs;
Coming a little sprite,
Loiters in full silence.
Face-peaceful and innocent as moon,
Holy elegance there is--sentiment there too;
Under the lilac umbrella shines,
Her delicate and lonely eyes.
Strolling in rain--antique it is;
When day-light burns to ashes,
The sprite still roves,
Chewing with leisure sleeplessness.
Dark---Remit as yet no grace.
Comfortable are her steps.
Arises from amazing magic,
Her enhanced attractiveness.