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The shinning water of the stream Dances down towards the hills Far up the moon wakes from its Slumber to float and shed its beam The humming of the cool wind Strays away from the dark grove Drawing tides over ripening crops Leaves no traces of its scent behind Dew hangs from nodding grasses Falls upon surly worms in drips Birds from fronds pull heads to sides Listening carols of the young lasses Slowly a wall of mists rises up An opaque sheet of glass stands Between the foliage and hutments as Streaks of star light begins to drop Nothing seem real in this vast land Just a dream that tickles a newborn All are arranged in a perfect style as if Being taken care by a magic hand