One day I happened to pass through a small narrow path in the deep woods. I found a tree that has not even a single green leaf and it resembled an old man who has given away his all to life and with his last breaths is ready to embrace the kindly messenger – The death. High atop the dry branches of the tree there perched a nest which deserted long looked like a blank mind and everything around was silent.
As I was about to pass by the tree the little twigs made a clattering noise as if they had something to say to me and I stopped and turned around. Then I heard through the mouth of the gentle breeze that blew through the broken twigs this song, which, unable to render in the words of the breeze are putting into the words of my mouth.
“ My boy! Then the birds picked us up We were young with sift pulp.
And as the days rolled by
We turned, as ye men – hard and grey. Then the crows that built their nest Were as happy as any couple.
And this old tree, our dear mother Hast green leaves and shade ample. Yet the days rolled as they should And the crows left the nest
The greenness the trees’ twigs
Just as the strength that leaves When old age is ripe.
With the arrival of summer As sorrow to mankind Cause this barrenness to us.
As to a mother bereft of her kid”. “Pray! Don’t let a tear go dear!
For that is the way of life And ye nor other could Judge God’s will.
‘With love for God that made us weak And with love for the birds that left us And with love for the dry tree
We stand ever through song silent! “ …
Just then the breeze stopped to blow and I felt a small dew drop dripping on my head as a happy tear falls on the head of the young child from his Mother’s eye when the kid bows before her I returned back singing the song of the Silent Nest.
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