The Wrong Garden
A Anjandev Roy
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It's the wrong garden for the great bird,
The nightingale sings its song so sweetly here,
But the ruffians consider it as the coarse music,
They drive the sweet bird away.
Then the black crow comes proudly
And sings with its coarse voice,
The rogues listen to it with rapt attention,
They clap their hands in joy
And encourage the crow to sing more.
Sweet is coarse to these men,
And coarse is sweet to them,
How strange!
But this is the truth of this place,
Dear nightingale, don't lament;
You have come in the wrong garden.
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