This time it's the rain,
Makes me nostalgic once again,
In these moments of loneliness,
Comes a rush of feelings like a smoke billowing train.
Memories, sweet and sweeter,
Circling my head like a roller coaster,
Engulfing me in their charm,
Remind me of that farm and that rooster.
I still remember how we used to make paper boats,
Frogs croaking at the edge of their throats,
Those roads filled with muddy water,
But now it's just umbrellas and raincoats.
Dripping from the edge of the roof, those little droplets,
Appeared to me like a dancer's anklets,
The wings of that sparrow all drenched,
While it was trying to rush to its nest.
The numerous ripples in that lake,
What a sight they often make,
Floating on the surface, that lotus and that lily,
Like cherries on a cake.
The sun used to play hide and seek among the clouds,
That sound of thunder, so loud,
And when the rainbow used to come out of its abode,
The soil in the water emerged as a dry sand mound.
- Disha Wahi
Makes me nostalgic once again,
In these moments of loneliness,
Comes a rush of feelings like a smoke billowing train.
Memories, sweet and sweeter,
Circling my head like a roller coaster,
Engulfing me in their charm,
Remind me of that farm and that rooster.
I still remember how we used to make paper boats,
Frogs croaking at the edge of their throats,
Those roads filled with muddy water,
But now it's just umbrellas and raincoats.
Dripping from the edge of the roof, those little droplets,
Appeared to me like a dancer's anklets,
The wings of that sparrow all drenched,
While it was trying to rush to its nest.
The numerous ripples in that lake,
What a sight they often make,
Floating on the surface, that lotus and that lily,
Like cherries on a cake.
The sun used to play hide and seek among the clouds,
That sound of thunder, so loud,
And when the rainbow used to come out of its abode,
The soil in the water emerged as a dry sand mound.
- Disha Wahi
