Now when the elders pondered deep the odds,
They thought that Ram and Krishna must be gods,
Who for some purpose known to them alone,
Made with the humble cowherd folk their home.
And now the rainy season did appear,
Which grants all sustenance, and brings good cheer;
The lowering clouds an angry aspect show,
Sometimes is seen Lord Indra’s painted bow;
Thick clouds are spread across the gloomy sky,
Where streaks of brilliant lightning flashes fly.
E’en as the sky is covered by dense clouds,
The veil of ignorance the soul enshrouds,
Yet as the sun is but by clouds concealed,
When clouds are gone his true light is revealed.
Or as the king from subjects tax receives,
In times of need, by donatives relieves,
Surya does all the year earth’s moisture drain,
That pregnant clouds, in season, give the rain.
The rains afford the land prosperity,
Like those who give largess in charity.
The earth was parched, emaciate, and dry,
Just as a sage who does by penance try
To expiate by fasting, vows, and pain,
His sins, and to enjoy good life again;
So when the clouds had emptied out their store,
Fertility did to the land restore.
Rama and Krishna rested in a bower,
Whenever there poured down a heavy shower,
Partook their meal of tubers and of fruits,
And chewed the fibers of esculent roots.
With Rama and his friends he sat at ease,
Or in a cave, or underneath the trees,
Thus Gopal was delighted to behold,
The circling of the seasons to unfold.
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