The dewy midnight sky is queerly quiet.
the silent sea is dark and soothes the wind;
flows through the muddle woods: in sudden gloom,
the pines and blue-gums rustle quite enough
to seize my gaze; but fall upon the path.
on the downpour wet mud, the moonlight gleams;
along with my dry eyes, the beings shine
and creep inside: I hear the doleful songs
of my old peers; far-off, along this path.
But the chorus yells a tale: the lost sholas
with purple kurinji and waterfalls,
so far; my feet are strong, so I will walk.