Inside we are afraid to diminish.
The flowers have come to bloom
With green mangoes on the way.
Now is March and heat is less yet.
Soon there will be a rain shower.
Raindrops will diminish flowers.
There will be a diminished fruit.
There will be diminished image.
The soft colors will be shadows
Just a few grays of hot summer.
Mist is migraine of fallen leaves,
Unripe fruits helpless on earth.