With the touch of monsoon
Dripping wet the sands and lands
Changing the hues of the sky
Thyself is blithsome.
Thy blithe overwhelmed koel
That sings a rhythm joyously
Moving here and there over the trees
Bringing a gush of pleasure
The pleasure knows no reason
Thyself is blithsome.
The singsong overwhelmed thyself
Making me reply in the unknown frivolity
As the heartfelt musical notes
Knows no invitations or boundaries
Thyself is blithsome.
Mother nature, Koel and Thyself...
For whom they are blithsome?!
For whom the invitation is?!
The receiver of mother nature is expected
The invitee of the koel is anticipated
But thyself is out of blue!
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