Saturday, August 27, 2022

Maybe sad but surely sweet

(2376)  Ketakii jaga varasay

A screwpine roused by rainfall,
With each pollen-spore its fragrance goes sailing off.

Frogs are croaking in the nut-tree forest;
Lightning grins on frenzied wind.
Amid the mind at northeast[1] corner,
A cloud dances, at Whose expectation?

Juhi dust gets drenched by water;
For Whom does the tuberose yearn?
In woodland and in garden, lonesome and secluded,
Who there seems to sing a song?

Sarkarverse article
Audio recording

1 comment: