The zephyr passing across the garden,
she carries a sweet smell, smell of the garden;
yellow, red and lilac flowers smiling.
She turned to a gale, brushing across,
across the wild shrubs, the thorns and rocks;
wild-beings gazing and feeling her go.
She turned to a monsoon wind, raining down,
down and tasting invisible tears on the go,
drenching the trees, cooling the earth.
And at times her frustrations turn as sirocco,
she travels and goes on changing her attire
as everything around her change, she simply goes on
and on as her spirit lives on and on...