Ceaselessly there blows the wind.
Everything is veiled in monsoon cloud.
For last days of three
The sun is sparsely visible.

There stands my Mejo-Ma by the casement
Hardly survived since her spouse’s demise.
That was a year and four of months,
Was shaded in monsoon and monsoon alone.

That one year and four months,
None of winter, summer or autumn emerged.
Mejo-Ma used to stand at the window and see.
What did she see after all?

Her hubby crawling in soggy fields, bound towards,
Whole body wet.
Because at the peak of agony
He had to crawl in death bed
In a posture front-down.