The rain dropped like dotted silver thread, lined with pearls, straight from the heavenly sea, coming through the gates of thunder.
Ali ran fast through the watery winds following the pleasant tune. He ran till he reached the riverside. The brimming river was flowing fast and it’s prattling noise enhanced by the songs of the rain. But above all, came the mellifluous tune.
On the other bank sat a girl playing by herself. The tune was better than any nightingale’s chant and pleasing than any Cuckoo’s song.
He waved at her. She stared at him for a minute and waved back and soon resumed her song.
I saw him that day, but never again.
He was the first one to follow my song. The angry water took him in its lap and there he lies. He never wakes up, he never will. But I still play near the riverside to attract him but may be the music of my flute is obstructed by the river’s berceuse.
I will play for him.