(112) Iishan konete megh jamiyache
In the northeast, clouds are gathering;[1]
Fiercer winds are blowing.
Today, the nor'westers[2] have appeared.
Shutting both window and door,
Becoming scared by thunder's roar,
Seated now inside the home, everyone
Is listening to the dancing water.
Uprooted many cherished trees are getting;
To the ground wounded fruit is falling.
Neath hailstorm, the hurricane's refugees,
Birds, bereft of their nest, are weeping.
In the form of thunderbolt amid summer-heat,
The Ferocious Lord, how He dances wildly!
In great dread the ship at sea,
Billow-cradled, it is swaying.
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Be wary what you beseech.
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