I wonder why you hide behind the hills and clouds
Shying away from the approaching airy evening
Birds fly in echelon, calling a farewell as they went
Trees reflection on the waters hung like a rag on the rail
As frogs resumed their croaky songs
Hundreds of bass voices singing, in harmony
The cream colored clouds melt before the retreating day
As queer images are drawn across the skies,
At the distance the shepherd calls to his sheep
For the solemn day and his entourage has packed up their caravan
And soon the clouds will bury them all in her warm embrace
