Arias

Sweetly sings the gentle night, the boughs and
Forest's chorus both join in melodies
Joyous... They celebrate for She that plays.
Into this sheltered grove comes The Woman.

All in a flowing cloak, on sandaled feet,
With covered head. She, soft, lays her burden, 
Deeply wrapped, upon the ground and sets, then,
Trappings aside of Her outer world. Sweet,
   She uncovers this carried voice, she strums 
   Across the strings aloud, she picks and plays 
   And then, to joy, she sings her music gay.
   And this little forest, the world becomes.

The minstrel's dawn does wake us all to see
A world far more pleasant because of she.