A rain shatters the silent peace of the dark blue Yamuna... flowing
guilelessly on its own accord by the eroded banks of time... 
with waters that rise and fall, and move along in silent obedience.
In the melancholuous rain, drown the voices of those that have
sinned
voices of wet Lovers that echoed through time...
greener pastures and parched blues....
men who left their footprints in the soft sands of an immense depth ..& emerged with a part of the river, 
that today carries their sins...
what kind of affection is this O'Yamuna.. 
abathed in the sins of our time, yet you flow so guilelessly..