Bila Retak Kota Hati: Part I - Love

The Nightingale

Where art thou, o darkness,
In the light of the fair white moon?

Where art thou, sadness,
routed by silvery tinkling china,
watering the dryness of the night?

Ah! The Hymn of the Nightingale,

Perfumes the putrid midnight stale,
the majestic upscale and gentle downscale.

One might imagine the wind and gale,
upon the majestic cliffs and shales,

or the gentle sigh, of two lovers rending,
their true devotion for each other unending.

Wither upon the choir loft,
I hear your voice ringing soft,

The silvery tinkling chirping,
Of the lapis lazuli Nightingale perching.

Where on that pew of wood,
She poured forth song like dew,

And sang like the Blessed few,
Praises to the One on the Rood.

From far off, pale blue his pallor and plume,
The Mockingbird can only silently adore,

This hymn that the Nightingale did outpour,
Like the twinkling of the stars on the Celestial shore.

But with his voice unequal to hers,
can he ever join her in the choral verse?
How sooty his plume, can he ever be fit,

To stand in her presence and behold,
Her dark night eyes?

Forsooth the darkness, all is calm,
In the light of the fair white moon,
And the Mockingbird listens to the balm,
Of the Nightingale's gentle croon,

This unearthly hymn did she outpour,
Like twinkling stars on the Celestial shore.