Both hands full

(110)  Griismavakashe se yadi ase

Should He come during my summer break, I'll offer flowers, both hands full. I'll offer flowers, only flowers. Under the crimson sky, beside morning magnolia, Let Him bring His rhythmic, rosy feet. The cuckoo still speaks a few words At dawn when the south wind blows, And a nightingale on her palash branch chirps That the riverbed is almost dry. Ashoka blossoms are dropping fast and all but fallen; The silk cotton trees are almost full of seeds. Grape clusters flourish, row after row; And in the overgrown hiptage bower, Bumblebees hum on obtaining flowers.

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