There is a place.
Away from this roar and race.
Upon the hill, across the lake.
Where the green grass has
Smoothened the scaly land.
Where the birds come to rest
To to slake their thirst.
Where the gentle wind rustle the leaves,
To chorus the birds that sing.
To there my dear. An evening.
Let's go, to rattle around.
Forgetting all preconceived thoughts,
Let's sit quietly at an end.
To watch the birds that take flight,
To fly across the horizon,
While the mellow sun starts fading,
Let our silence speak.
~Jatri