Debabrata Maji
The storm has come,
Leaves are falling—
The palm tree’s
Head is shaking.
Birds are returning
To their homes,
Straws fly
In the whirling wind.
Grass gathers
In a tumbling heap,
The cows in the field
Are running away.
Flowers fall,
Petals drop—
Water rushes,
The crazy wind,
With a whistling sound,
Makes a melody
In a discordant rhythm.