Nostalgia

Late this night Electric lights gone I am sitting at the window sill Looking out At the calm moonlight Falling over the silent earth. Oh! Flutist Now play your flute. Yet there is no haystack heap At the courtyard Nor the thatch roof stable Where ruminating Waging their tales intermittently The cattle resting. But oh, flutist, Play your flute From the distant horizon To the tune Long ago I heard.