Where the hills of blue embrace the sky,
And the white-winged cranes in silence fly.
A mirror of emerald, vast and deep,
Where the secrets of the mountains sleep.
The Kaptai Lake, a liquid dream,
Bathed in the sun's soft, golden beam.
A world of water, calm and still,
Carved in the heart of a verdant hill.
The engine hums a gentle song,
As the wooden boat glides slowly along.
Past the floating gardens and bamboo stays,
Through the misty veil of the summer haze.
The Shuvolong falls from a rocky height,
To join the lake in a spray of light.
A silver ribbon on a wall of green,
The purest beauty that the eyes have seen.
No roar of traffic, no city's cry,
Just the whispering wind and the open sky.
As the shadows lengthen and the day grows old,
The water turns to a sheet of gold.
The fishermen cast their nets so wide,
On the quiet breast of the mountain tide.
A sanctuary found, a peace so rare,
In the cool embrace of the hill-tract air.