To everything a season

(3105)  Mor madhumas cale jay

My month of spring goes away;
Green a fresh leaf did become.
The leaf, on getting yellow-tinged,
With dust it totally incorporates.

A cuckoo bird had come;
A flood had called in song.
On advent of the summer,
Somewhere lost is that current.

In the air had been ambrosia;
Upon sky the moon had been.
By monsoon clouds opaquely thick,
Their veiling is given.

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