Pleased Are We When It Pours Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

The massive clouds their white petals shed
And wombs of heaven get impregnated;
The maid, eyes black and mascara applied,
Clad in black, by rain gods is espied
Whilst roaming in a dark glittering night,
She glistens with the flash of thundering light.
The scene of this nightly sky
Make people excited nigh—
Two brownish nipples in heaven
On the bosom of a woman,
Pregnant with possibilities rife,
And dripping elixir of life
Pours on the lips parched and in strife,
And then cometh loose all the sky,
O pouring forth and no-more shy,
And no one then misses the sun.

At spring sun welcome is with pleasure,
Rain it is truly a rare treasure,
Let sun shine in those sun-starved shores,
In parched lands pleased we're when it pours.
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Kalidass' Meghdoot (The Messenger of Rains)in Sanskrit is celebration of rains. We in this land of plenty of sun pleased are when it rains. Rain is the elixir of life here. Spring is fine but summer is not so welcome. It is only in sun-starved lands that poets sing of sun.
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Musings | 01.08.11|