Buzz of the merry bees
And the song of bamboo trees.
In the ceramic pond carps swim.
Native grasses whisper something
about the mysterious Earth.
Chum! I compose my song on a paper serviette.
This is not my home and I sleep in the kitchen.
I wake up early in the morning to the Master's snoring
When the kettle whistles I make the magical tea for my bachelor architect playboy boss who praises my strange cup of tea otherwise I could have thrown away a long ago to the faraway ditch.

* I dreamed yesterday Van Gogh who gave me a canvas and forced to draw him nude.

nimal dunuhinga

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-s-a-midsummer-dreamscape/