Your thoughts have drifted into my heart
Like the first clouds in the eastern skies,
Moist with fragrance of the distant rains.
The summer was long: the thirsty roots
And the babbling brooks have dried up
Like green dreams, withered in the sun.
I know these dark clouds will not burst forth
As chattering rain on my window-panes;
But the day is dark, and I seek darkness.
Lightning streaks the sky with a promise,
To fall with unrestrained joy one day:
Not here, not now, but someplace else.
Diptesh Ghosh