In the midst of summer’s stifling heat,
From out of the blue,
A thick, laden raincloud approaches;
Hovering majestically low.
The parched fields rejoice at the touch of its cooling shade.
They soak in the blissful downpour,
And sprout nine divine crops.
Beyond a wall of distant mountains
Forlorn in a barren desert
The ruined shell of a tree catches a scent of mist from the far-off downpour
And, rejuvenated, sprouts new leaves.
On the other side of the mountains
The downpour runs off rocky hills
Forming a rising river
Rushing with life-giving water to the far corners of the world.
It flows into an ancient riverbed of divine love
In which countless great souls throughout history have bathed
But these new waters are special!
And just now a raft appears on the waters
Atop it stands one of Śrī Kṛṣṇa’s most intimate divine lovers, Śrī Rupa
Whose guidance will carry us to the most confidential and sublime depths
Of the ocean of intimate divine love.
I am forever in Rupa’s debt.