The waking melody at the break of the day,
from a flame of the forest far away,
like a cascading cool water fall
like a mother’s comforting call
like the dearest one’s sudden arrival
like a sweetheart’s ecstatic avowal,
it pours forth endlessly
to every listener endearingly.
For eons it sings,
the only melody never monotonous.
The heard melody again at noon, is tireless
meandering thro’ the maze of care-ridden millions,
mesmerizing many by musical excellence.
The tone high-pitched, when it someone mimics
more insistent, with passionate perseverance,
swings the whole world on never ending notes.
Undaunted by the slanting shadows,
of the eventide and the sable of night’s
enfolding darkness, when the sky turns silver
and the world bathes in the rapturous river
of the submerging, soul-stirring,
strangely, singularly sublimating,
swirling, scintillating moonlight,
continues the song, full of fresh delight,
winging the world on dreams of restful flight,
the Koyal, finally in patches, pauses, out of sight.
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