Rain is unknown sadness
it sighs
and weeps
and lashes the scrubbing women
to sweep the felicitous sweat
along with numerous aches.
On such days
of incessant rain
menfolk think of harvest
and with rain washed eyes
vision a bumper crop
or family welfare and self interest.
Who taken special note of rain
and its sadness unbound
days roll in our own cries
and sorrows
till it ends up once
when grey hair stalks
along the pattern of life.
Infact no man can do
only the plants weep for rain
as soil sobs in sympathy
and wind carries its wailing
the indepth melancholy..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem