Hardly the poor pilgrim climbed the mountain
Before the sunset and he rests on the peak.
Peak murmurs like in a prayer;
'Hermit died a long ago and the hermitage was blown
in the stormy days.
Since that day I tried to come down
But later on I came to know that I cannot move
Like the old sage! '
* To be trusted is a greter compliment than to be loved.
-George Macdonald
[A folklore; Full Moon nights they hear songs and the bell rings in the hermitage! ]
nimal dunuhinga
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hunchback-pilgrim-and-the-singing-mountain/
