Night

The midnight moon stud high in the sky,
Soft stoking breezes flow low and high
The beautiful darkness cloaks the ugliness,
The rustle of leaves is all in the name of noises

The serenity spreads for long and from long
The faraway twinkling stars, choir the song
They sing of love, the oft repeated tales
Those self immolating Doves who perished in Vales

Some humming tribute echoes among hills
I know not from where they come to the hills
The ages and ages, they hills have shed the tear,
That rolls down from peak as life breathing rivers.

- Ashu