Rain is knocking at my door
With a thousand hands,
In the hands of the rowdy winds
Braches are wriggling in the streets-

From what distance the rain has come
Carrying what messages for me;
I cannot hear across the tumult of
Wars of armies of frogs in the mud-

The rain left
On the chariots of clouds

With a plough on the shoulders
Sun is ascending to the peaks of hills
To the clouds that distributed gifts of water
The whole world of created things
Is paying homage-

The little seed in the earth
Projected her neck and
With the first two shoots of green leaves
Folded like hands
expressed gratefulness -
- Seshendra Sharma