This time of the year

  When virgin vetches in the

  Fertile Cresent

  Stand pregnant blowing

  With the mysterious embryo

  And the cloud of the ethereal trio

  Stands indifferent refusing to

  Spreed their blessings again,

  When ever blithe shoot can

  Hardly wait to celebrate

  The birth of the Rain

  This time too curses and chaos

  Are overtaking the land and every

  Variegated leaf that drops

  Bewilders the improvident that could

  Not suck in and store summer as sap,

  And makes them wonder whether they have

  Enough vitality to sup

  To witness and celebrate the

  Birth of the messiah.