In the land of far away places
Where the swallow stays high in the sky,
Lacing the delicate fabric
Of stories told, by and by.
Meadows cast with morning dew
Young rabbits take their first hops,
With their parents, on watch, just before them
Whilst eating the farmer's sweet crops.
And the sun passes high overhead now
And the blue summer sky is so still,
Not a sound is heard in the meadow
Except from an old watermill.
In the land of far away places
Shubhoshree looks out on the land,
And violet skies take over
And the moon reflects from her hand.
All is still in the meadows
Once its is time for our sleep,
And dreams take us on to new pastures
With more adventures to reap.
