O, Monsoon Rain, Wearing a shroud of rumbling cloud, You gracefully descend on cracked fields; To fecund the willing earth for vegetation.
With your prolonged absence, Greenwood turns grey & dusty, And awaits to be washed by your pouring.
When you come down incessantly, Green forest imbibes in dancing spree; To welcome you with gaiety & bonhomie.
Your streaming awakens hibernating frogs, To croak in musical rendition; On filled-in waterbodies yonder.
Your cascading down the earth, Creates mini-rivers here & there To induce playful tiny-tods, Putting on it paper-boats afloat.
Your breathless songs of pouring, Brings spilling-over youth in rivers; With inflating bosoms, To run with rippling sound in waltzing waves.
Your singing bout shimmering on tin-roof abode, Enthralls men of mind beyond measure; To be guzzled in poetic hues all the day.
O, Monsoon Rain, Don't you turn year blissful face from humans, Who destroy trees in mindless frenzy of sheer ignorance, That impedes your steps in ethereal beauty & grace.
O, Monsoon Rain, Keep gushing and dancing heartily, Wearing your pair of ankle-bells alongside roaring clouds, To entice jumping frogs croaking & singing, With you in equal melody & rhythm.
