Getting old I discover something new

(3026)  Sharat akashe

Neath this same autumn sky,
A night jasmine pines.
Where does the white cloud go a-sailing,
Like a silver raft at time of evening?
Spell of dream, brimming it provides.

Brought to earth has been a form of heaven,
An amazing sorcery from green and tender.
On a gentle breeze incense fragrant,
Toward Whom does it race, not advising?

To only the One, everybody hies,
In dance and song, bird-chirping alike.
Both rhythm and sweetness filling life,
They swoon by the jingling of melody.

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