Amidst the ancient temples’ halls,
A sound serene begins to call,
Softly at first, but then it swells,
The Carnatic flute, its melody tells.
From bamboo stem to embouchure hole,
The notes flow out, pure and whole,
Carrying tales of bygone times,
Echoing through the temples’ chimes.
Its breathy timbre, so smooth and fine,
Moves the soul and soothes the mind,
With each trill, fast or slow phrase and glide,
The Carnatic flute takes us on a ride.
A master’s touch, a melody spun,
Notes intense like the beating sun,
Crescendo with an assertive tone,
Echoing through the temple’s stone.
The Carnatic flute, so rich and pure,
An instrument that will endure,
Through ages past and ages yet to come,
Its melodies will continue to hum.
A sound that fills the heart with grace,
A music that time cannot erase,
The Carnatic flute, its notes will ring,
Happiness to our mind this will bring