The Crescent Moon(19)

THE RAINY DAY

    SULLEN clouds are gathering fast over the black fringe of the forest.

    O child, do not go out！

    The palm trees in a row by the lake are smiting their heads against the dismal sky； the crows with their draggled wings are silent on the tamarind branches, and the eastern bank of the river is haunted by a deepening gloom.

    Our cow is lowing loud, tied at the fence.

    O child, wait here till I bring her into the stall.

    Men have crowded into the flooded field to catch the fishes as they escape from the overflowing ponds； the rain water is running in rills through the narrow lanes like a laughing boy who has run away from his mother to tease her.

    Listen, someone is shouting for the boatman at the ford.

    O child, the daylight is dim, and the crossing at the ferry is closed.

    The sky seems to ride fast upon the madly-rushing rain； the water in the river is loud and impatient； women have hastened home early from the Ganges with their filled pitchers.

    The evening lamps must be made ready.

    O child, do not go out！

    The road to the market is desolate, the lane to the river is slippery. The wind is roaring and struggling among the bamboo branches like a wild beast tangled in a net.