Clouds gather above
Casting shadowy troves
Red skies like the wine
An evening, a pretty sign
The lonely tree stand at ease
Like a fiery dog free of her leash
She swerves with the clouds songs
She enjoys the love, the attention
The hills grow up to meet the sun
Shades grow behind huts and men
Tentacles of the palm tree paint
A running masquerade on the silt
But whence travels the sun
Leaving us with grimfaced evenings
Of memories of the fine day
And sweet, finer things to say?
Red skies, white clouds
Surging winds, so loud
All mix of Heavenly hue
Soar like broth of brew
Awestruck, beautiful are the skies
When the sun set before our eyes
Can’t you see?
Can’t you feel?