Friday, August 9, 2019


(119)  Megh tumi kache eso

Clouds, you please come near—
Rain and more rain we beseech.
Green paddy seedlings, they are withering;
Not a drop of water is there.

Till now, nectar did not fill the lemon bloom;
In the sweetsop flower clung no fruit.
The pomelo blossom did not run amuck with scent;
From this cruel drought, rescue we would get.

The kadam[1] buds are all dropping down;
The tuberose[2] flowers fail to open out.
With waves of blazing heat the earth is getting burnt;
Rainfall's soothing coolness, where do we discover it?

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