THE MONSOON CLOUDS
Soubhagyabanta Maharana
The monsoon clouds become crazy
To touch upon the parched earth
After its natural banishment for months
For provoking disasters in floods
And unforeseen ruin of human-lives.
The dry and dead summer clouds
Being drenched by rain-drops
Rejuvenate the gleams and glitters of the season.
The earth looks amorous
Like a sensuous damsel
With the rain-soaked dreams.
Emotion oozes out profusely
As if nature’s rain-drops
Have gripped the voluptuous season
With a frenzied sensation.
It transforms the dusty and dreary earth
Into a lively lovely garden
Smiling with fragrant flowers
Sweet fruits and sensational aroma of dreams.
Released from the solitary confinement
Of scorching heat and severe sweating
The monsoon clouds herald a vivid welcome
Of life and animation
In the metamorphosis of a dying earth.
The pervading colours of monsoon clouds
Entice from farmers to flutists
Poets to pundits
Monks to monarchs
And love-sick to lepers
To enjoy the seasonal changes of nature.
The dirge of death slowly
Turns into a scintillating song of life
Amidst the murmuring of showers and streams.
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Soubhagyabanta Maharana
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