“Drip, drip, drip… the rain falls
The river floods the sides
Lord Shiva is getting married
Given the three brides”
My mother sang in Bengali
Whenever there was a friendly rain
that did not scare her
to bring bad memories

The downpours excite me
As though a call from the heavens
They cool down and drench the dry
Work like the life blood
of the seedlings just sown
Oh water of rain you shower
Like the Grace
even unto the humble

The drip-drops calm me down
Like the touch of my mother’s hands
All the fire and half-ashes
of the anxious and beaten-up heart
extinguish with a lovely hum
Oh water of rain you shower
Like the Grace
even unto the restless

“Drip, drip, drip… the rain falls
The river floods the sides
Lord Shiva is getting married
Given the three brides”
My mother sang in the shadowy evenings
Whenever hope and love lit up her face
In the evenings with friendly rains

Bhaswat Chakraborty

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rain-83/