English
Today, what does the bamboo grove say, in the agony of its loss of leaves? In speechless silence it gazes on. Today, what does the bamboo grove say? In the storms of dust it lost its green beauty. In the cane and kadamba groves, the sweet spring breeze no longer blows. O awesome Lord, what is this play of Yours? This scorching fire? This heartless sport? The skylark sings in this desert thirst: "How far off is the sweet melody of rain?"
