So the nightingale
fills a whole forest
with its voice—how wonderful!
When I stand by a brook
as it flows through the land
all the trees are still. So
a small place
is mine—
in the shadow
of Love
such laughing joy!
Ah! Sweet mystery—!
a wind in the leaves!
In every tree sways
a nest, in every nest—
birds. A dream.
The nightingale has gone to sleep.
July 2024
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