Songs of Heat and Rain

O love, this heat—
the sun ascends with fierce delight,
yet rivers brim, lakes still run deep,
and moonlight soothes the weary night.

We'll bathe at dawn, and in the dusk
sip sweetened wine on garden grass,
while music flares and laughter spills,
as hours of fire and passion pass.

Where chambers echo splashing joy,
and sandal melts upon the skin,
the gems like moonstone cool the dark—
the summer calls the heart within.

Upon the rooftops lovers lie,
where breeze and scent together twine,
they drink, they kiss, they sing, they sigh,
enthralled by jasmine, heat, and wine.

Their silks are loose, their cinchlets gold,
with tassels that play hide and seek.
Their pearls slip soft on scented skin,
and sandal cools each flushed red cheek.

With crimson feet like lacquered art,
and anklets singing silver tunes,
they walk like swans with curving grace,
beneath the burning afternoon.

Their laughter rings, their glances tilt,
and beauty blooms like twilight’s face—
the Love-god stirs within their gaze,
reborn in every time and place.

The wind, now thick with scented balm,
whispers with fans of peacock plume,
and as it stirs the pearls and strings,
desire wakes from spring’s old tomb.

The moon, once proud, grows shy and pale
before the maidens’ sleeping glow,
ashamed to show his spotted face
before the flawless light they show.

But not all hearts can bear the flame—
the earth is scorched, the dust is blind,
the wanderers, torn from their loves,
find even sky and step unkind.

The lion rests; his thirst is deep,
the elephant forgets his feud.
No battle now, just breath and heat—
their fury dulled, their strength subdued.

Peacocks fold their radiant fans,
ignoring snakes within their shade.
The fire burns so high and fast—
it levels all the foes we made.

A frog, near mad with thirst, takes rest
beneath a serpent’s hooded dome.
Both unaware, yet side by side—
each seeks the other’s venomed home.

Boars root the mud in desperate sleep,
while wind and flame their backs inflame.
The wildfire leaps through every bough,
and paints the forest walls with flame.

Buffaloes reel, their tongues outstretched,
birds drop from branches, limp with heat.
Monkeys hide in vine-dark caves,
the world retreats in swift defeat.

But even now, my songbird love,
amid the fire, amid the sweat—
the lotus blooms, the jasmine sings,
the moon on water shimmers yet.

So let us drink through molten nights,
beneath the stars, beneath the skies.
With music, touch, and garlands bright,
we’ll melt in summer’s softest cries.

The sky unfolds in drifted greys,
a hush before the music starts;
then thunder rolls, the heavens weep,
and water dances upon hearts.

Fields awaken in emerald sweep,
each drop releasing earthy breath;
and rivers rise, ecstatic, wide,
embracing earth in silken caress.

The lotus lifts its rain-washed face,
its petals dripping jeweled light;
frogs intone their mellow hymn,
a chorus born of dew and night.

On rooftops lovers seek the rain,
their laughter mingled with the storm;
in fragrant air they press, they kiss,
while wind and wet their senses warm.

Fresh blossoms tremble on the trees,
their scents are lush with wet-born dreams;
and incense drifts from lacquered halls,
where amber flames reflect in streams.

Silks and shawls cling soft and damp,
their hues the mist’s own whispered tones;
bare feet imprint upon wet stone,
each step a pulse in earth’s deep bones.

They sip the wine beneath the roof,
each sip a spark of sunlit wine;
they stay till midnight calls their names,
until the clouds break, and they intertwine.

The bells and drums, the flutes that sing,
they echo through the glistening air;
the Love-god breathes a softer note,
a tender pulse in lovers’ care.

New life unfurls in lavish green,
and hope restores the world’s lost grace;
so let us bathe in summer’s gift,
and love the monsoon’s cool embrace.