The Summer Boy

When did the sun sever its ties of duty with the day,
Ceding no ray to the horizon?
Why has the season gone on a voyage with its warmth,
Leaving no coals for the fireplace?

My craving lodge in the bloom of summer morns,
When the sun rises in revolt, from behind the clouds,
Kissing the crown of my head in courtesy.
Enwrapped in its tender warmth,
What a feeling, so sweet!

But to be grounded behind doors,
Bored out of my mind at rainfall,
Oh! Takes all joy away!
How I loath the monsoon!

The voice of heaven rumbles,
And the water eats the land,
Rendering our playground an isle,
And the village square, empty of children.

Behind the windows, in dejection,
We pray your leave.
Over stay not your welcome,
Oh, ordained intruder!

When last have we seen you,
Soaring harbingers of summer;
Convocation of winged heralds?
Ready the sky for the kite.
Revive the songs of the skylark,
And bring back the scent of summer.