Nidiya’s view

  Moon, moon, dear young moon, Let me carry your precious child upon my back, rocking softly under the tender sky. Please scatter down your figs, sweet moon, under the watchful moon, wrapped in mother’s song, carried by night’s gentle hands, till dawn’s first breath brings morning home.

“I had gone a-begging from door to door in the village path, when thy golden chariot appeared in the distance like a gorgeous dream and I wondered who was this King of all kings!”   “ꯑꯩꯅꯥ ꯈꯨꯡꯒꯪ ꯑꯗꯨꯗ ꯌꯨꯝꯊꯣꯡ ꯑꯝꯥ ꯗꯒꯤ ꯑꯝꯥꯗ ꯅꯤꯔꯝꯃꯤ, ꯑꯩꯅꯥ ꯅꯪꯒꯤ ꯁꯥꯒꯣꯜ ꯒꯥꯔꯤ ꯑꯗꯨ ꯂꯥꯝꯅ ꯉꯥꯟꯗꯨꯅ ꯐꯥꯖꯅ ꯃꯪꯒꯨꯝꯅ ꯂꯥꯛꯄ ꯑꯨꯕꯗ ꯉꯛ ꯑꯃꯤ, ꯀꯔꯝꯕ ꯑꯊꯧꯕ ꯅꯤꯡꯊꯧꯒꯤ ꯅꯤꯡꯊꯧ ꯑꯣꯏꯔꯕꯅꯣ?”