To the spring I, ever, humbly prayed:
Do not, so fast, make your march forward
One, coming after you, is cruel;
He’d dry the flowers you had freshened
He’d destroy the beauty you’d fashioned
Orchids will have soon a burial.
Quick, the hiding summer heard my words
Sent his forerunner, wind, with tough whirls
Sand and mud and wastes together flew;
Dried leaves and flowers got simply blown
The strongest of branches got broken
Heat and sweat and humidity grew.
Birds of all kinds got themselves hidden
Many of their nests, in winds, broken
The young ones struggling to fly away;
Remembering the days soon got passed
Games they played in the spring got full-stopped
For season’s change keenly did they pray.
‘Thirsty!’, the parched cracked dry earth, aloud, sighed
‘Thirsty!’ all sun-burned creatures’ union cried
Forests and hills and vales too did mourn;
Praying with bend head and folded hands
The whole of earth and heavenly bands
Seemed seeking the solacing monsoon.