He faces south,
looks out across the gentle night
sparkling with the moon’s fair light
glittering on the starry edge
underneath the rocky ledge
above the river’s mouth.
A nightingale,
alone where fallen tears belong,
trills out her ever peaceful song.
To follow her he goes astray;
wistfully he turns away
along the hidden trail.
A darkling sky
above him shines without a moon;
the nightingale sings sweet her tune,
till he is lost amidst the trees
where shadows lurking take their ease
by willows grey and high.
Alone at night,
The foreign skies above him rise,
an unknown world before him lies.
No sight nor sound across the plain
but light and soft footsteps of rain
go drifting out of sight.
And far away,
where songbirds sing and waters fall,
the moon shines bright on saplings tall.
Clouds roll away, and shadows dance;
the earth is still, as in a trance
and then begins the day.
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