wild like a tempest
She is melancholy, like those dark clouds.
Always hiding away her light,
Seldom she uses to laugh,
Verily, that laugh is no less than the lighting.
There is a Strom she has kept within her heart,
Rarely, she shows it to someone affluent.
It is nearly impossible to dominate her,
Unless you are unalloyed, barren ,bleak and thirsty for love..
Possibly then might she fall upon you like a thunderstorm
shraddha
