Girls on a Summer's Eve
I remember the girls of my village heading home from harvesting on a summer eve.... their sickles shining on shoulders as though they were carrying the moon. They sang in unison with undulated sound praising the field and the wheat. The day of the summer was singing and passing with them through the wind. From their song, the night was falling with all the stars, like in a fairy tale.... With their shadows moving into water, the lake was playing silently its game.