Unto the passing lights and evening hues,
Unto the endless waves of life,
He plays his Piccolo
To the tune of matchless olden times.

Against the sinking sun,
Against the waking moon
The Piccolo follows a song
And drops it among the passers-by.

It is a quiet eve
It is a river-side.
There in search of a comfortable night,
The piper opens his lute.

Under the umpteen stars
He spends his sleepless nights.
In the many corners of the city
He is an endless traveller.

A pilgrim of infinite-
He is caught by the wilderness of life.
But his countenance is serene
As the stillness of the scene.

There in the softness of air
He plays in heart and throb.
There, unto the moving world
He presents a momentous hour.

And I see an old couple
Wipe off their tears.
Away to the shores of yore
They are swept by the wholesome music.

And in his basket
They deposit a few Francs.
Beyond the tingling coins
A soulful heart is heard.

And the couple disappear into the city lights
Moved, relieved and really pacified.
Silently they sit at the dinner table
Longing for the winds of yore.

Late into the eve and beyond
The Piccolo player opens his fountain.
And away into his corner he shrinks
Emptying his richness into the world.

Ravi Panamanna

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pilgrim-of-infinite/