A Rainy Letter To Thee



Dusk befriends soothing wind & lazing rain in Mauj (mother), Kashmir
Raindrops splash, needles kissing my homeland, poured by thee

Puffs of the clouds hung over bows before the lonely tree hennaed in green
Rain droplets are pouring down like the needles kissing the poor countryman while frisking for their roots

Ah! The orchards are being blessed with a blanket of green all over, the dew-kissed parched leaves on the eve of ripening of the fruits
Sheer is my mother, it’s my shelter and my homeland. Thy summer has spelt it for so long, now it seems a rainy night


Thy home is lightened with the illuminating stars, here with the thread of candles; there in the corner brother is having the apple bite
Blessed we are that rain pours down as the golden wire, it extinguishes the worldly fire

Rain, rain pour down, poor needs you.

Tahir Ibn Manzoor
Tahir Ibn Manzoor
The author considers self as the test match blogger – technically the wall at grubby courtyard where he had scored runs in tons eating buns while feeding hens in a coop – normatively TORPID – statistically averages MINUS who aimed BIRDS and WINDOW PANES of his neighbours with his 9-year-old ALPHA BAT that died over a FREE-HIT. The wicket-keeper batsman once in a blue moon tried OFF-SPIN and LEG-SPIN but failed in a long run.

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