Untimely Rains on the Coast and the Plain Translation of the original Hindi poem by Neena Dighe

The Untimely Rains on the Coast and the Plains


The season is not what it used be
It has come with a different face.
 The time of the year is deep into the spring
and the sky is a camp of  the rain-clouds, ominously dark.
They have invaded the sky
and they are determined to stay.
The farmers watched the indolent breeze swaying the harvest in ripples of green and yellow
heedless of the malefic signs of this unscheduled rain,
until the soil, warmed up to the omens of the possible hazard
of blight, said,
"Make haste and reap the harvest
The season harbors a wicked intent,"
The soil emits a warning in a silent shudder,
and who can predict the pattern of rains
when madness strikes the clouds?
Those who follow close
in the footsteps of time
are left wondering what went wrong.
They stand in awe of the mystery
that hides all signs of the days to come.
What caused this error to tilt the scales of the powers
that turned the benign nature so dark?
Why this wrath? Why is the dame so vindictive and harsh?
Or is this an augury of a new age knocking
on the doors of the times in fury?
Is this the end of the old ?
We have tampered with nature and teased it long.
Now listen to the scourge, the apocalypse
and its words are dark and loud.
Your pride and vanity, your relentless march against the grain of nature's law,
proclaims the end of an era.

It's the end of summer even  before the spring could reach,
before we could salvage the dreams of the sun
bound in a sacred covenant with earth,
the eclipse of all that is green.