The future is completely open, and we are writing it moment to moment...
Phone Number *** - **** 4423
Birthday22 January 1974
Address Rua Dezesseis de Maio No: 4423
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About ARUN KUMAR Shukla
Oh! silent lute, when will thy silver chords Give the light wings of melody to words- Words sweet as are the lips from whence they flow In murmurings passionate with joy or woe? When will the oracle that dwells in thee Speak forth in melody?
Lady! the faithful friend of bygone hours, Passed in the coolest green of shady bowers, Why is that friend in silence doomed to pine, Whose voice of old could sweetly answer thine? What mem'ries would the dear familiar sound Summon from all around?
O Music, lofty echo of our thought, In thee we find all that we ever sought Elsewhere in vain; the truthful sympathy Which lovers dream is realized in thee. The breath of the pure spirit, the wild flight Of misery or delight.
Our frame is but as yonder lute-our soul The sweet musician, who can still control And move us to each bright heroic deed, Upon whose memory music loves to feed; Make of us warriors, poets, great and wise, Through heaven-taught symphonies!
Where is the angel who would fold his wings, Where the gay lark, whose voice through morning rings, Would leave for this dark earth the fields of air, Nor freely chant to heaven his thrilling prayer? Where is the star, would wish to fade and fall From the deep azure hall?
Where the Enchantress, whose melodious breath Can give to all our griefs a welcome death? Whose witching tones can win the list'ning heart To laugh or weep, so natural the art With which along the strings her fingers move, Inspiring thoughts of love? Where the Enchantress, who condemns to mute, Dull, lifeless sleep the magic of her lute, Nor pours into its soul her ev'ry thought, Sparkling with genius, deep with rapture fraught? Who, lady, can this fair Enchantress be That so resembles thee?