Cloud-covered-night.
The moon is hiding its face!
Will raindrops quench
the longing brook,
and freshen up the landscape?

 

On the high-browed mountains,
The stately trees are sparse!
Will Heaven’s nectar reach them,
to clear their doubts looming in grey?

 

Amidst this unseasoned scene.
Within me Paradise stirs!
I go out of bounds...
when I hear your name surface!

 

1998

                          

Geeta Chhabra