I became the creation of the sky; my expressions descend as rain,
While the earth stands as the grand assembly stage.
Upon its humble platform rests a tender sapling, as ceaseless showers fall;
Should it be submerged, we shall set forth in a boat.
Today, you are but a fragile sapling; one day, you shall become a mighty blue stream,
A fearless navigator of boundless waters.
We shall be the voyagers through morning, evening, and night,
While you shall guide us toward the destined way.
Today, we are the guides, while you remain the spectators;
Today, we shall present our performance.
You, tender company of saplings, embrace the strength of patience,
For every beginning unfolds with the tale of falling rain.
If I become a rain that scatters blossoms, lift your gaze toward the heavens;
The crimson blossoms of the flame tree shall gently descend.
They shall fall upon you with every dawning day,
Inspiring you to envision the loftiest of summits.
If I become a fierce and cataclysmic torrent,
O little, tender sapling,
You shall only grow stronger still.
As a hopeful young tree,
You shall silently shelter the newborn shoots,
Spreading your leafy canopy in their embrace.
If I become the life-giving rain of the heavens,
The rivers shall overflow in a single sweeping tide,
Yet soon they shall run dry.
In this unyielding battle of steadfastness,
You shall stand against the transience
Of all that is fleeting, barren, and withered.
Tempests of Kalboishakhi shall take shape in ruin,
Shattering all into countless fragments;
Everything shall lie in utter devastation.
Yet you shall withstand the merciless downpour,
O little, tender sapling,
Rejecting all wickedness from the very seed of your being.
Then shall come the sediment-laden rain of corrupting company,
As though revealing the vast diversity of life.
Let there remain but a gentle acquaintance,
Never an intimate bond.
Though relentless waves may surge and beckon,
Never shall they persuade you to deepen your affection.
The rain shall return, turned acidic;
In but a moment, all shall begin to decay.
Only the steadfast trunk shall endure.
From these hidden, dormant sparks,
You shall blaze forth like a meteor,
And your foliage shall grow vast and magnificent.
If I become the gratifying rain of summer,
Your allure shall only deepen,
And your spirit shall flourish with renewed life.
You shall find comfort once again
Amid the tumult of life\'s relentless struggle,
And endless blossoms shall bloom upon you.
Once more, the gentle showers of Shravan shall descend;
O little, wandering sapling,
You shall be embraced by fertile earth.
The land shall abound with flowers and harvests,
The world shall overflow with abundance,
And you shall become worthy of remembrance.
If I am counted among the gentle rains,
Never let yourself become a flood.
Remember the grace of Shravan,
Through abundant fruitfulness, you shall be blessed,
Rising above all others in distinction,
Clothed in enduring beauty and grace.
Never fear your own growth,
Nor the ruthless fury of relentless rain;
You shall ascend by the strength of your own course.
Though floodwaters rise with the storm,
May your noblest creation
Stand firm, like the steadfast neem tree in its bitter grace.
Your trunk, buds, and bark shall spread far and wide;
Let a hundred hardships come if they must.
You shall be laden with abundant fruit.
Through blossoms, shade, and timber,
Your roots shall clasp the earth,
And you shall rise ever stronger in enduring strength.
Your presence shall spread to every horizon,
Drawing in the carbon of the world,
And transforming it into healing remedies.
On that day, you shall become the guide to all,
While once again, we shall stand as the spectators,
And you shall be fulfilled in wisdom and noble understanding.