Slowly, slowly, the wind will sweep the fields,
Slowly, slowly, the sun will rise.
Slowly, slowly, man will forge his path
While the hot air balloon will
Give a ride to joyous children
Filled with the mirth of innocent smiles.
Slowly, slowly, mothers will cope up
With the empty-nest syndrome
While fathers will go on doggedly
Digging furrows in the volcanic terrains.
Slowly, slowly, the two-humped camel
Will walk diligently with its load
While the windmill radiating
A gentlemanly demeanor will smile.
Slowly, slowly, the couple make love
While the infant slumbers peacefully.
With relentless passion, the poet
Writes a poem by the evocative
Waters of the lake while the woman
He loves comes slowly, slowly to meet him.