It Is Summer, Of Mango, Jack Fruit, Black Berry, Wooden Bela Fruit, The Lichi Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

It is summer,
Of mangoes ripening,
Varieties of mangoes,
Snmall, big, sweet and sour,
Sourly sweet, sweetly sour,
Some just yellowish but not tasty,
Village folks sitting under the mango orchards
Waiting for the drop of the ripe mangoes
And the birds pecking at the joints
And lonely guards on guard of
During the nights
In the solitary and secluded orchards.

The black berries it is difficult to pluck
As the branches lie in fringed
And it is difficult to reach out
And to collect ones and twos
And shaken the small fruits
Looking black, but violet from inside
Will fall, but get thrashed
But so tasty and sweet and digestive
And the tongue will turn violet coloured,
The lips too after eating black berries
With a pinch fo salt.

What to say it about the jacks hanging,
Hanging by the stems,
The branches, the basks and the roots too,
Sometimes can be found through
Growing undergound too,
If cooked raw it will be an equivalent for meat
Just like soyabean,
Ripe jack fruits giving the honey taste
But take you not too much,
If juicey-morselled, squeeze you
With a paddy straw the juice
To be taken with milk, sugar and rice puffs.

The wooden bela with so many varieties
Big and small,
So useful for the stomach,
Bela, Shiva's fruit,
The yellow-brown pulp
You can directly
Or making sherbet with,
Diluting the pulp in a glass of water
With a spoon a little bit of salt, sugar
And lemon juice to take to the lips
To taste and tell me about
Bela's sherbet.

Lichi, Chinese or Indian lichi,
I cannot say
Which is from where,
But know the tase and can tell it about
How is it lichi,
The white lichi
So sweet and luscious,
Delicious to eat,
Nectar-like
And as many as eat you,
The stomach will not fill,
You ever hungry, ever thirsty for!