The merry sun shines bright and high,

The rain drops patter out a happy rhyme,

The wintry slush- all beautiful it lies;

And oh, it’s spring! The bells of joy do chime!


Those leaves rustle a gleeful tune yearlong,

In autumn, take a bow, and apprentices sprout;

The charming fowls chirp their gay song

And the babbling brook, ecstasy it shouts.


Against the endless expanse of blue above,

The mountains high and the valleys low

Silhouette true and joyful smiles of love,

All leaving imprints, as past me they flow.


The cascading rivers and the dancing waves,

All to an unheard ditty of merriment;

Steep cliffs and fascinating caves

Form a scene to behold, all gloom does vent.


All in all, it is like heaven unearthed,

But, alas! Hell comes looming large,

Like a pitiless monster engulfs my mirth,

And the devil at my delight does charge.


The furious sun spurts balls of fire,

The rain drops batter out a dirge,

The hungry wintry slush looks dire,

And in spring, turmoil does emerge.


Those leaves rustle a mournful tune of defeat,

In autumn, fall corpses to the ground;

The fowls cry to murderous beats,

And the rough brook, disaster it pounds.


Against the endless expanse of tumult overhead,

The mountains high and the valleys low,

Silhouette angry brows, with all mercy shed,

All courage and happiness away do blow.


The raging rivers and the frustrated sea

Threaten to swallow the cold land;

No one could desire but to flee,

And to hold tight a reassuring hand.


As I flash out with my mind unsound,

My ears are greeted by a voice very raw,

‘If your pollution of nature knows no bounds,

They were today and tomorrow which you saw.’


Tanmay Sinha