'If you blow that pipe, son...'
My father told me one morn;
'Blow it always with your soul
Only then it reaches its goal...'
Saying this my dad smiled,
And the breeze of spring blew mild,
I nodded looking at him,
As if I was in half-dream;
Days passed as hours went
With many an instrument time spent,
At last one evening I found a song
After wasting my search for too long,
Walking across the sands white,
Under a starry, moonlit night,
Flowing almost like a leaf astray
Right there at the ocean's bay...
I took my pipe up my mouth,
And looked at the direction South,
From where the leaf was borne,
From some branch surely torn,
And blew the first gush of air,
Through its cylinder, loud and clear,
The air blew through its way,
And clearly went far from bay,
I kept blowing my song of love,
That perhaps reached the sky above,
For the stars smiled at me,
And the moon shone across the sea,
As if I was in a fairy land,
And so beautiful looked the white sand!
And that fairy, leafy distant thing,
For whom destined was I to sing...
Came afloat to me so pure,
Only love could hold such lure,
She came rushing in,
As if she was the wildest thing,
She came to me to sweep me off-
My feet, and held me in air aloft,
I was about to lose my senses then,
And thought 'Was it joy or pain?'
She soared and soared with me high
Methought we would soon reach the sky,
She with me flew over to wondrous place,
Where poems and music only grace,
All things were full of joy,
The king's and the labourer's boy...
Both they played with equal hap,
From nature they gained their life's sap!
