He ripples sweet summer songs above the highest mountain tops.
He sings all day, coming and going with barely a stop. He knows when I’m there and hides away, the moment I’m gone, and he returns with his song.
I’ve waited two weeks with camera in hand, and can finally prove that Ripples Sardegna, in the blink of an eye, has come and gone, yet again.
He returns and ripples his songs to the new summer air. I’ve just about got him … let me see now … I don’t know. Click.
There he is now, for maybe he’s a she. With the sweet summer songs who can really tell?