NIGHT with her ebon hair and starry crown
Upon
the hills came down.
Her loosened tresses floated all unbound
And veiled her form around.
The fountain murmured like an endless tale
On
her entrancing lips; and it would seem
As if God spake within the silent vale,
And sleeping Earth were listening,
in a dream.
Like blackened clouds, in Jorokh's stream arise
Those
rocks that through her savage waters pierce;
Like dragons twain, they glare with threatening eyes,
Facing
each other, arrogant and fierce.
Wild Jorokh through that fearsome valley flows--
Flows
like a caravan that onward sweeps;
First roaring loud, then hushed into repose,
Groping its way through
darkness, on it creeps.
The sounds of Earth are melted into rest,
While
strikes the hour of expectation deep;
Earth's waters heave, against each other pressed,
And breathless listening,
all their vigils keep.
Decked out like lovely brides stand all the flowers;
With
nuptial joy the forests trembling wait:
Until Heaven's blessing fall in Sacred Showers,
And whispering softly,
each may clasp its mate.
