The Folk Song

The distant strains of music

Wafts along with the air to my ears

I begin to move my feet

In tandem with the song

As the boy comes near,

I see the Banjo in his hand

His fingers pulling the strings

In accompaniment to his song

I can ken the wordings

They tell a merry tale

Of a cowherd and his longing

For a milkmaid with her pail.

The song is so beautiful

The melody so enchanting

It weaves magic on my mind

To enter the space divine

He calls it the Bulbul Tarang

I call it a magical wand

Casting a spell on my mind

Transporting it to heaven.