Sometimes heavy pour, sometimes thin
Rain falls jhom jhom, rim-jhim, jhim
Thunder strikes and dense cloud roars
Most people get bound to keep indoors
Baby, in mother’s lap, cries out in fear
Thunder roars loud, difficult to bear
Day light disappears in cloud-shade
Businessmen count loss in their trade
We enjoy rain pour rim-jhim, jhim
Situation of the poor is heart rendering
Flood washes away mud thatched shed
They find no shelter over their head
We enjoy rain pour rim jhim jhim
Swarnarekha river flows out its brim
How fine it is to see to flow the flood
The poor cries; but who bothers? we’re glad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem