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In the blazing summer the thirsty heart craves.
Sleepless nights, long scorching days Comfort is not known. On dry twig, a tired bird pleads In pitiful tune. Oh fear not, fear not. We probe the sky. As you shall come in stormy disguise To our panting hearts. (This translation was contributed by Pratik Ghosh pg@dcdmc.intnet.mu ) |
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