We leapt over the vales
of the Kodaikanal hills,
crying in glee
and gazing with raptures,
as our bus was on it’s winding course.

The hills were crowned
with a seraphic charm.
Glancing that white silver-cascade,
the shrill cries of our girls
rent the air.
They ran into the refulgent showers.
The tipplers danced, and scared the girls
but teased them not.

The mist shrouded the pillar-rocks
and filled to brim the suicide-spot;
we peeped deep
into the misty ravine down
and got lost in parlous dreams.

“Oh, we were chased in a hazy air
by an avalanche of mist
on that gorgeous lake!
The girls felt aghast
pedaled the shallop fast
into the bliss of life.”

Fruits of varied hues and tastes
enchained our tongues.
A free for all in the realm of flowers
enticed our girls.
We came back home leaving our souls
craving, in the pure air of the hills.