دانلود رمان انگلیسی “پونیین سلوان”

The evening was serene, in its beauty. The sea lay subdued, its exuberance calmed; low waves murmuring along the shores of Kodikkarai. Catamarans and boats bobbed on the waters, making their way towards land; birds fluttered home from sea, at the end of their daily quest for sustenance. Pristine white sands stretched a little away from the water; beyond, dense, thick jungle claimed the landscape, extending for league upon endless league. Not a single branch on these hoary old forest trees swayed; not a leaf stirred. Silence lay upon them, a thick, stifling veil, stretching in all four directions. The sun sank to the horizon, his brilliant red-gold rays dazzling where sky and earth met in their eternal quest for togetherness. A few straggling clouds, failing in a fruitless attempt to hide his glorious light, caught a few stray beams and glowed bright in the evening sky. A tiny boat bobbed on the sea, close to the shore. Gentle waves rocked the craft like a child’s cradle, taking care not to play havoc with the little vessel—which carried a young woman. And we remember, in an instant, Sendhan Amudhan’s ecstatic, almost reverent description of his young cousin. Indeed—this must be Poonguzhali; her luxurious tresses even hold a single petal of the fragrant thaazhampoo, as if to bear out the truth of her name. Long, silky black ringlets flowed from her crown in waves, setting off slender, beautifully moulded shoulders to advantage. The sea scoured its depths and poured out bountiful resources: shells, tiny conches and the like, onto its shores; she had gathered and strung them into a fascinating necklace that now decorated her swan-like neck. Truth be told—they attained a sort of unearthly beauty by ornamenting her, rather than set off her considerable loveliness. But then, what sort of exotic jewel could possibly enhance a face and form that defied description—that was beauty incarnate in every way? She lay in her boat, majesty limning her every movement, languid, free and enchanting—and then she lifted her voice in song. Was this why the sea lay like glass, its waves a mirror of tranquility? Was this why the wind died down, tempering its raucous cries to a soothing murmur, in a bid to catch the cadence of her voice? Did every leaf and branch adorning trees in the distant forest silence their endless rustling, just to listen to her lilting melody? Sky and earth pause in their eternal, celestial duty, drunk with the beauty of her exquisite song? And perhaps this was why even the sun tarried a while longer, rather than make for the horizon and sink to the west —just to listen, a little more, to Poonguzhali’s voice.