(118) Varasa eseche bharasa eseche
| Monsoon has come; hope has arrived. The chatak's[1] thirst has been quenched. Withered grass, made gorgeous green, Assumes the form of carpeting. Rain patters to the ground, As if heaven's ambrosia drips down. To trees lost sweetness is restored; For animals new life is found. Come, let's rush toward the goal With invincible spirit and boisterous song. Looking back or sleeping in— Today, all inertia is gone. |
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