Faint rustle of the breeze
dead leaves, twigs blow down
Is it only I in the dark of the night
or do other souls too move about?
Hearken, attentive O comrade
here a shadow and there a glint
the beings that dwell in a land not far, slip out a subtle, gentle hint.
Who on this stormy night is back
door of a home long deserted swings,
what business unfinished they seek
whose laughter rings loud in the wind?
kahaniwaale - the art of storytelling 