There was I and probably you as well
And an infinite silent stillness.
Brittle like a dry, parched leaf,
Gritty like sands on a seashore
But that's a tale of prehistoric times.
At a road crossing I called out to you
And you answered my call,
And in the winds' throat there was a quiver
And particles of earth were animated
And the waters of brooks hummed in a melody
Branches of trees grew a trifle tense,
There was stirring in the leaves,
A little bud twinkled an eye,
And a bird fluffed out its feathers
That was the first song that the ears heard.
The septet of the lute came much later.