A Sunset Scene
The most beautiful hours of the day, I think, are the beginning and the end — sunrise and sunset. In the middle of the day, in the bright sunshine, things look common and ordinary; but in the dim light of the dawn, and the softened light of the evening, even ugly things are interesting, and beautiful things seem more beautiful than ever.
A few evenings ago I watched the sun setting behind the mountains. As it sank lower in the western sky, its long level rays lit up the green fields of wheat and all the trees and bushes with a golden glow, making everything very clear and distinct. The clouds above the sky began to glow with a golden light, and the mountains were of a lovely purple colour. The white dome and minarets of a mosque a little distance away looked as though they were made of silver.
At last, the great fiery ball of the sun began to sink behind the mountain wall, lower and lower, until it was gone altogether. But its light still filled the sky and lit up the overhanging clouds. The clouds changed from gold to red, till they glowed like red fire; and the clear sky between the lower clouds and the mountain tops was like a sea of burning gold, dotted with small dark grey clouds that looked like islands. The gold slowly changed into a beautiful pale green colour; and in the midst of it appeared a faint point of silver light — the evening star. And in the still air, a musical voice began to sing – the Muezzin crying the Azan, calling the faithful to prayer, from the distant mosque.
Then the red colour of the clouds began to fade, and faded away until all the clouds were grey, and the mountains became a deep black clear cut against the pale sky, where the evening star was shining more brightly every moment.
Below on the plains, the light gradually became dimmer, until in the twilight the fields were dark, and trees and bushes stood out black. Gradually it became darker, until nothing could be seen but the dark hills against the sky: and one by one the stars came out, and the night came on.
All was very still: and nothing was to be heard except the soft rustling of the breeze in unseen trees.