The fields where sesamum has ripened
and now lies dry delight the doves;
the mustard turns to brown,
its flowers giving way to fruit:
the wind scatters the hemp
and makes the body shiver with its drops of sleet:
travelers, quarreling in empty argument,
huddle about the public fire.
There is no moon;
the sun has left for lands unknown;
the circle of the stars and planets
has been erased from heaven.
Of day and night
all distinction is obscured.
What is this crime
committed by the serried ranks of clouds!
After the rain a gentle breeze springs up
while the sky is overlaid with clouds;
one sees the horizon suddenly in a flash of lightning;
moon and stars and planets are asleep;
a heady scent is borne from kadambas wet with rain
and the sound of frogs spreads out in utter darkness.
How can the lonely lover spend these nights?