Your Mood Of Late, O Rains Poem by Aniruddha Pathak
Your Mood Of Late, O Rains
You drain your all to quench parched hills,
Man manoeuvres others to fell,
Heaven's gifts for profit to sell,
You rain, a scorched wounded heart heals.
What use boons be to thankless man?
If boons paid back are best one can
Would not this planet be heaven?
Yet, to hell's creed he seems driven,
Aware, you doubtless sure would rain.
Your nature is to drain and drain,
For eons gracious you remain,
Whilst man is as has been— a pain.
Yet, judging from your mood of late,
What if you leave him to his fate?
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Monsoon musings | 03.09.16 |
If boons paid back are best one can Would not this planet be heaven? .......insightful presentation. Beautiful poem amazingly shared.10
But mankind is not in the mood to listen to, thank you Kumarmani ahakul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 3:10:31 AM # 1.0.0.1119
'What use boons be to thankless man? '...yes...what use? a thought provoking question...meaningful and well thought out poem
Thank you for reading this older poem of 2016. I appreciate your feedback.