Through her blood's lightly layered
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
Of the trees, among the trees, for the trees:
Woman smelling of the season.
[Translated from Shesha: Selected Marathi Poems]
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Comments about this poem (The Rains by Dilip Chitre )
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