waiting for the sun

Morning sun is yet to come out
The stars are still shining bright
I lie silently in my bed watching out
At the sky studded with night diamonds.

As I lay half awake and half asleep
I hear a soft whisper, gentle sound
Just outside my window, on the mango branch
That soft whisper gently rises to extreme.

Bursts forth a melody divine from the lips
Of an invisible singer, welcoming the dawn
A tiny little nightingale calling the sun
Singing the most joyous song that can be sung.


My eyes could not see him in the dark
My ears drank his singing like the earth
Drinking the rays of sun after the dark
Like drinking the raindrops after the parch.