... midnight ... roarings
I turn myself and try to go back to sleep ... useless, the roars ring louder. I get up ... at night, looking for the tenor.
It seems close, but I don't see it.
And it's at dawn that he comes out of the bushes right in front of my bungalow and with nonchalance comes to quench his thirst at the water point.
The sun is rising, the image is magnificent, made of gold

at last out of the bush