Her lyre-play adding more life to the scene,

drifting across the wind, water and ground.

For her: the leaves on the boughs have more green;

the songs from beaks have more blending in sound;

the sun’s light of gold has grown more in grace;

the river with pearls has more energy;

wings of colours brighter in the air’s space;

more and more petals bloom for eyes to see.

Here arrives heaven rising in the heart—

a wave of its light expanding within,

compelling hell’s darkness to break apart;

now the heart of the poet glad with win.

Her music has taken over the mind—

consciousness leaving all by hand behind.