Moving slowly towards the western horizon,
The sun goes to plunge behind the hills,
As if exhausted by the day-long journey,
Traversing the seemingly endless sky.
Wonder if it goes there to rest,
In the comfort of a secret bower,
Or just continues on a different route,
To light up other side of the sphere.
Here all bedecked with starry jewels,
The evening descends as a shy maiden,
Painting the sky with a curious mixture,
Of blue, yellow, red, and saffron.
The sky is dotted from end to end,
With flocks of nest-bound anxious birds,
Their wings fluttering with maddening noise,
Desperate to reach their night shelters.
The sun, having gone far out of sight,
The moon, yet to make its cool appearance,
The stars in multitudes begin twinkling,
To ensure that light is not out forever.
And the world retires in peaceful slumber,
Resting its trust upon God and Nature,
That the Sun shall surely rise again
Soon after the night has had its tenure.
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