(111) Venukar van kii katha kay
Today, the bamboo grove tells what story?
Ah me, out of grief for the falling leaves,
At that, mute-faced, she stays gazing.
She's been losing all her greenery;
With dust storms, each exquisite beauty.
In kadam and rattan groves,
A pleasant wind no longer blows.
Fearsome Lord, what is this Your game,
A ruthless sport neath fire flames?
How far away is the monsoon's melody?
With desert-thirst, pied cuckoo[1] is pleading.
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And all one can do is pray for rain.
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