We stood breath less on the peak
In that eternity of mountains;
You now claim as your own.
Wrapped in a thousand years of wind;
We stood and listened
To the music of the earth
Below us rivers
Tuned by the sun to liquid gold,
And fields of corn
And sparkling cities.
Fair courts a-shimmer
With flaming blossom,
With humming birds
And dragon flies
And honeyed fruit as paliered on the wall.
The silver and gold have turned to water,
The once-rich fields be barren and waste;
Instead of garden-skeletal forest
And beggars at the city gate.
Now you astride the eternity of mountains
Wrapped in a thousand years of wind
You listen to the music
Can hear no longer
by Anna Ranasinghe 1970