The Rain-Song
Monday, November 5, 2007 by Abhinav
Like the hearts of seasoned wanderers
That know many sweet and sordid tales,
One seeks the arrival of rain-bearers -
Agog raconteurs asail upon fiery gales.
Like the silent mark of changing seasons,
Tiny beads of sweat course the land of skin.
Other heralds, alas, have learnt louder lessons;
A yellow-goggled cuckoo makes a noisy din.
Like a shadow across a day’s decline,
The rain-clouds creep across the land.
Old wizened winds hasten - a sure sign,
And rains and lightning - a sonorous band.
Like a dream heavy upon my eyes,
The sweet scent of the first rains rests.
On the ledge, the weary papiha cries,
And the cuckoo does sheer jests.
Like eyes that know tears more than sight,
The sky does not stop for a very long time.
Once and again, paper-boats pass in plight,
As a muddy rill flows and grows into its prime.
Like a heart that does not know its reasons,
That lives life as if living a passing treason,
Over the fetters of time, I watch the illusions
And the drops that bide their time this season.
Like languid monsoon nights of yore,
The strains of Des, Malkauns and Malhar
Open up the melodies of unwritten lore,
And seek the longing that lies afar.
Like too much pleasure that is pain,
The last notes dissolve into tears.
Over the breeze, lilts a dream again;
And the sweet song of sleep nears.
