The Language of Art

“What is there in rhymes?” Askes a boy with fine clothes on body, in a foreign tongue.

“Everything.” Replied the wandering bard with clothes torn, in the language of rhymes.

Boy laughs, and turns back to leave.

The beard then takes out his one stringed instrument from a cloth bundle and stats playing a tune which the boy has never heard before. The bard then starts singing in the language that is alien to the boy.

One rhyme follows the other, and the boy in no time starts understanding not the words, but what came out as music.

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BlogOpine is about anything which converges with life, but not everything which do so. BlogOpine is about what is new, but it does not skip what has already passed.

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