Tuesday, May 12, 2020

When hope is all but lost

(1574)  Nispatra vanabhumi

Leafless the forest,
Without blossom, on the day You came...
Fresh reddish leaves You infused;
On withered branch You made flowers bloom.

The hope that has been fading,
The language that's been losing speech...
To that expectation in clusters aplenty,
You brought loquacity.

The river that's evaporated,
Gotten lost in the arid wilderness...
Having brought Phalgu's undercurrent,[1]
That dried-up stream, You made it run.

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