Calypso night's

A gentle breeze moves the leaves,

simulating the sound of the rain,

it's getting dark in Port of Spain

Under the sky and the palm trees.

How Long away is the land from here?

Am I in the middle of nowhere?

I let you know, my heart talks for itself

Calypso music has stolen my soul away.

How could I write about its poetry?

is my stolen soul my only proof,

perhaps I will recover it in the eyes

of a beautiful woman from Trinidad.

Its getting dark but the birghtness

of the steel-pan is always shinning,

If the night seems clearly under the moon,

The Carnival would easily be like the sun.