I don’t want thunders,
I don’t want lightning,
I don’t want rains,
My beloved is away.
When he left the village,
I was just thirteen,
But I am now sixteen,
And I now understand,
The meaning of the moon,
In my ring finger.
All the girls of village,
Are singing folk songs,
On the swings that are hanging,
In the mango trees,
And behind a large tree,
I am standing all alone,
I feel something,
In my body and soul,
My eyes are wet,
My age I regret,
As I now understand,
The meaning of folk songs.
Being burnt in the fires,
Of my dreams and desires,
I am now aware,
Of the mystery of life,
What I want from you,
What you mean for me,
Why I wait for you,
Why I seek you dear,
Why tears in my eyes,
Why annoyed of skies,
These rains blow the flames,
Of your love, my love!
And the red stone,
Of my golden ring,
Appears to me,
A drop of blood,
That has frozen in a shape,
Of a human heart,
A symbol of a feeling,
And a thought if you,
Were here in the rains,
I and you,
I can’t say any more,
But I now understand.