A wonderful concert has just begun -
The crickets play in the long grass
On sonorous maracas.
Hundreds of musicians, and one,
Deeply moved spectator, sat there
And cried as he heard the despair.
It came with a rude gust of wind
Which broke branches and tore up leaves,
But with no roots harmed - naught achieves.
So the spectator, quite chagrined,
Listens to them with little hope
That he will not suffer or grope.
The crickets could not help but cry
And whispered under the grey sky:
"The fate is cruel, you soon will die..."