A scorching summer awaits us,
The months of Chaitra and Baishakh,
With the hot and humid conditions,
The sun blazing hot,
Man left perspiring,
The dog panting
With the tongue out of the mouth
And the saliva falling.
But it’s not at all devoid of scenery,
Many of the trees
With the glistening leaves,
And put on during the spring,
Still the night jasmines spray
The scent around.
The cuckoos keep cooing day and night,
At morn, noontime, eve and midnight sometimes,
The days generally longer,
Difficult to pass by,
So slow and dull in the countryside,
Women playing with the cowrie shells,
People sitting under the orchard shade
Or under the sturdy peepul and banyan trees.
The blazing sun shines and intensive heat falls,
The water bodies lie there waterless and dried,
The parching earth with the cracks and fissures
Looks like a barren land
Where there is scarcity of water
And people crying,
Water, water, water,
Waiting for the rains to bring in fresh showers,
Downpours to cool down
After an evaporation.
The mahua buds with the falling heat will fall down,
The mangoes will grow pale,
The lichis will ripen,
The blackberries will blacken,
All will sweeten the atmosphere
With the fruit and cereal varieties.
The snakes and the scorpions too appear on
The scene with their darts and hisses and hoods,
The wheatish small scorpions on the mud walls
And the wooden black and big scorpions
From the forest ways coming towards
The vipers fickle and frail,
Cobras hooding and hissing.