Bustle of the day does not suit me
As I see the faces of crying children
Suddenly I feel darkness engulfing the earth
Sensitivity of the damsel spoiling the house
People perspires running to offices, roads and restaurants,
Bustles of the daytime is verses tiresome
Nights are very pleasant
It spreads its cool wings like Sitalpati
Sleeping children and women all mingled,
Scattered on the beds of Heaven.
Brows like pollen of flowers
Dazzle under the moonlight
Celestial babies speak out heavenly worlds
And I wake up from my dream
To the heights of valleys of the hills
And rock the Earth
Steady earth swings with the earthquake
As if women-fairies sawing like
The sleeping babies on the cradle.
Those sights are lovely
The celebrations of the midnight.
Sitalpati: traditional woven mat, used during hot season