The Festival of Rain
A touch of coolness brings freshness to the parched soul;
weariness melts away, and life fills up, rich and lively once more.
The chilly breeze leaves its breath upon the leaves,
and drowsiness settles in;
drop by drop, the rain falls in rhythm,
refusing to let the noon lie still.
Sometimes morning, sometimes evening, sometimes twilight again—
its tune returns again and again,
even stealing into midday.
Along the edge of the roof,
in wild torrents, rain gushes down—
pools overflowing, drains brimming,
a festival of water, a chorus of sounds.
At dusk this fair does not stop; it flows on and on—
the frogs take up their songs,
joining their voices with the music of the rain.
In this monsoon day, wrapped in dense, weeping clouds,
it feels as though the year has turned full circle again,
returning, radiant with the colors of the rainbow.
