Nature

Of the enchanted world
Which tunes of rhythms
A melancholy of beautiful knit
Woven into reverberates
A nightingale sits alone
Bemoans the lost voice

A decree of manifestation
Of a prolonged hazel wish
The meadows speak of the lost glory
While birds sing of the last tune
A wanderer of life come by
With golden rays enlightening the pearls
Of all a sudden the breeze awakens the world
For the searching soul never stops