The clef raised by the fine velvets of tunes that sway along the empty air hue them with gold and luster, without which the life remains stable and sooty. The drums which rove it’s tune in the azure sky and pallid clouds overspread, the sinister chords which raise up the tawny weeds and birches which though dull proves to be tuneful and along which the flutes, lutes and fiddles engenders the cradle of life , the very soul.
In Punjab, the music blends as if stages the tapping foots of dance upon the hazel soil and the plutarchy playmate winds plays along booming drums while gushing with its outthrusted arms of plutocracy.
Without music, the plutocrat winds were so aloof, which along the pitch falls down in a shore of awash and as an autocrat, bears he the mist which acts with the gleam of the sun as the gateway of seven shades, the rainbow, and the same serves the brilliancy of the breeze which drew from the notes that raises zeal and zest.
Music providing a dance to several doggerels and blank verses cleaving apart the sorrow from the birth of an enthuse…
And the thrushes on boughs along mimic the like tunes,
Which serve the frosts of  harmonious notes upon the hills, dales and gorges afar,
I thank the very autocrat which bears along the tunes, the very mists that serves a sweet and lustrous joviality.