Monday @Home,
With the monsoon winds,
Tree-trunks loaded with chirpy birds,
Pregnant clouds threatening with a thunder,
The sun goes into the hiding,
And suddenly it grows dark
I hear the wailing frogs,
And the cawing crows disappear,
Through my wooden window,
I search for the rainbow,
I look for my magpie-robin,
But is conspicuous by its absence,
I look around,
And I can see so much,
Of hope,
In nature
Seeds waiting to germinate,
For those precious drops of water,
And lo the clouds burst open,
And pierces the ground,
Forming pools and puddles,
Giving life to the lifeless,
The blue earth gets a green carpet,
Love the greenery around
Rhythm of the rain drops,
And its music,
As it falls on the cemented roof and tiles,
Straight into my heart…
Father forgets the umbrella,
At the shop
Mother scolds him for losing yet another umbrella,
I hear amused,
Their conversation,
In the August rain
I wait for the rains to stop,
So that I could see my reflections,
In the concentric rings
of puddles...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem