Through her blood's lightly layered
Hazy darkness
Lightning flashes out branches of my being
When, through intoxicated wet leaves,
The sudden stirring that's the month of Ashadha
Passes tenderly like a slight shiver.
And there remains
Only she
Of the trees, among the trees, for the trees:
Woman smelling of the season.

[Translated from Shesha: Selected Marathi Poems]

Dilip Chitre

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rains-7/