The Summer Wind

In the woods I was lost, feeling like a dust mote in the sky.
In these woods, dark and dreary had I stumbled to die?
The olive groves and the silent trees
Were ruffled by the balmy breeze
The birds fluttered and then with a flap of wings, flew high.

The ghostly trees raised their branches up towards the skies
Through brier and bramble echoed hair raising moans and sighs
The air was thick with lamentation
Before me appeared an apparition
Into a frenzy of sudden activity were thrown the quiescent fireflies.
In his gloomy countenance, his eyes, like twin fireflies shone
At this uncanny sight, I quivered and tripped over a stone.
What was that sound insanely bizarre
Someone plucking at strings of guitar
With work calloused fingers letting out moan after sad moan?
.
Ears pricked to the music, I followed the pageant of the fireflies
Rich voices rose in a lilting song offering me a musical prize.
Ah heavy was not the cost
Of being, in the jungle lost
In the sparkle of the pageant, I forged some, new lasting ties.
Row your boat merrily along , the fireflies danced this message
Why be afraid of lurking demons , and flutter like a bird in a cage?
Why should any apparition
Be a cause for lamentation
Forge ahead,you talented actor, performing your role on life's stage!
No longer drifting like a dust mote I hummed a melodious tune
From behind the trees appeared the bright and proud moon
In the woods I was now on a ramble
Unafraid of brier or bramble
Life had once again become a sparkling and tempting boon.

The Power Of Dreams

I cannot go inside your dreams,
Only angels know that place.
And if I recognised you –
Would you have a different face?
The rising tide that washed our feet;
Has long reached a different shore,
The clouds have changed from dragons,
And just turned to clouds once more;
The roadside knows my footsteps –
Somehow an echo has remained,
But the crossroad sign has turned around,
Nothing here is still the same.
So which road will I follow now?
I’ve crossed rivers, waded streams,
For me it doesn’t matter –
No, for me it doesn’t matter –
I have lost the power of dreams.

Backyard of your Heart

At the backyard of your heart
At the backyard of your heart
Where you sometimes stand still,
And try to be alone with the clouds,
Singing a song perhaps, or simply
Curling threads of your auburn hair,
Give me a place right there,
I would just stand quiet
And be a part of your quietude,
And if you laugh out loud,
I would just flash a quaint smile,
At the backyard of your heart
Where you sometimes sit back
And try to unwind yourself
Sitting on a rocking chair,
Give me a place right there,
I would just sit quiet
And be a part of your quietude,
And if you recite a ballad lyrical,
I would do the same with you,
At the backyard of your heart.