Two friends travel into a remote, quiet landscape, leaving behind noise and conflict. They don’t need to say much; their deeper contentment is understood between them. One mentions how peaceful his soul feels without struggle, and the speaker notices a kestrel quieting its mating call, as if the bird also wants to preserve the stillness. By evening they rest on warm sand, the air softens around them like a blanket, and stars appear almost protectively. The speaker’s response is not just relaxation but a surge of joy—so much that her evening prayer steals her morning song, meaning the beauty of this night moves her more than ordinary daily praise. The mood is hushed, intimate, and reverent, blending friendship, nature, and spiritual wonder.
Translation — Summary
We trekked into a far country, My friend and I. Our deeper content was never spoken, But each knew all the other said. He told me how calm his soul was laid By the lack of anvil and strife. "The wooing kestrel," I said, "mutes his mating-note To please the harmony of this sweet silence." And when at the day's end We laid tired bodies 'gainst The loose warm sands, And the air fleeced its particles for a coverlet; When star after star came out To guard their lovers in oblivion-- My soul so leapt that my evening prayer Stole my morning song!