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?

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