At a long distant glare,
the incessant chant of monsoon from the south west,
sounds like a witch casting her spell,
Turning the sleeping dark cloud to a wandering gale;

On its arrival must the sun lose its seeming joy,
As she roars as a warrior in great toil,
And the blue sky covers it face with dark veil,
To hide from the shame of its impending tears;

The sparkling effect of the raging charges,
Brings a fearful sight of great lightening,
A wonder...