Shepherd lore: Sunset

I wonder why she hides behind the hills and clouds
Shying away from the approaching breezy evening
On clouds where birds fly in echelon, calling a farewell as they went
On casted tree shadows hanging on the springs like rags on the rail
Bored frogs may resume their croaky ballads;
Hundreds of bass voices singing, in harmony
The coloured clouds melt before the retreating day
As queer images are drawn across the greying skies,
From the distance, the shepherd calls to his happy sheep
For the solemn day and her escort has packed their caravan
And soon the dark clouds will conceal all in her warm embrace