The rains had come, confidence they'd given
Earth will get anew lush verdancy.
Amid that same faith, in beauty reigned Your song;
In it had been Your love replete.
Moorhens will call again, pied cuckoos won't covet water;
With the peacock's tail will dance a rousing sentiment.
In many rhythms and music beats, the screwpine blossoms
Will give pollen from a driven psyche.
On the bank of lake will rise the sound of frogs;
Bumblebees will buzz around the stamen of cadamba.
Beyond reach of mind, on the far shore of fog,
The Star of North will sparkle brightly.
Sarkarverse article
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Once again we'll find our way.
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