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Welcome to Winter Island
The beautiful perception…
The perception of the land…
And the cry of a sailor,
“Land ho!”
The water lopping by the shore…
And the water loping by the rocks…
There were trees, but more of a garden…
Voilà the paradeisos…
The sailors couldn’t wait, the restocking…
After a long journey,
Our ship amid the Brobdingnagian tongues,
Those were in wait to gobble us…
As the ship anchored…
The sailors alighted…
Ready to refresh,
And again to be amidst the tongues…
But to there dismay,
The land looked like, couldn’t aliment us…
Only the arduous mountain peaks,
That had spewed lava for years…
Only the trees with no comestible fruits…
Only the roseate soil,
That nurtured little life…
Only the meadow buttercups,
Over, the butterflies flew hither and yon,
Like the pixies in the pixie-land…
The green land that was cold,
Had only the stream that was sweet,
Sweet as the sweetest sugar…
Who knew? The land saw sacred…
The untouched land,
With beautiful and serene environment,
With no inhabitants,
With no animals,
Except the beautiful pixie akin butterflies…
With the sweet water stream,
With the fragrance in the air,
With the roseate soil,
With the enigmatic look,
With the meadows and floes,
With the echoing sounds,
With the sullen life…
Ah… Was it a wonderland?
Did this realm belong to somebody?
Stealing the water for sustenance…
We hied towards the anchored ship…
The land that we had impinged on,
Could give us only it’s sweet water…
And had been empighted in our minds…
