The shinning water of the stream
Dances down towards the hills
Far up the moon wakes from its
Slumber to float and shed its beam
The humming of the cool wind
Strays away from the dark grove
Drawing tides over ripening crops
Leaves no traces of its scent behind
Dew hangs from nodding grasses
Falls upon surly worms in drips
Birds from fronds pull heads to sides
Listening carols of the young lasses
Slowly a wall of mists rises up
An opaque sheet of glass stands
Between the foliage and hutments as
Streaks of star light begins to drop
Nothing seem real in this vast land
Just a dream that tickles a newborn
All are arranged in a perfect style as if
Being taken care by a magic hand
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