Let's go

In chapter 4 of Walden called Sounds, Thoreau says, "Regularly at half-past seven, in one part of the summer, after the evening train had gone by, the whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half an hour, sitting on a stump by my door, or upon the ridge-pole of the house."
This is my translation:

به طور مرتب در بخشی از تابستان در ساعت هفت و نیم، پس از عبور قطار غروب، مرغان پشه­خوار نیم ساعتی بر کنده­ی کنار کلبه­­ی من  یا بر تیرک وسط سقف آن می­نشستند و  سرود نماز غروب خویش را سر می­دادند 

And if you are all interested, here is the way the bird actually sings: 

http://www.soundboard.com/sb/Whippoorwill_sounds.aspx

Do copy and paste the address in your browswer and check the beautiful song of the bird.  Judge for yourself!  Who prays more beautifully?  We or the bird?  Forget about the engines roaring around you.  Forget about angry people shouting at each other in the hectic city in which we live.  Just follow the link, close your eyes, take a deep breath and find yourself sitting somewhere near Thoreau’s cabin in Walden or with Sue beside her beautiful small garden.