Rainter! O my Rainter! What are you, Rainter?
Are you a new season tinted by holy painter?
Rain is falling hard even in this freezing winter,
Everywhere disgust roams like a lonely hunter.
The winter rain congeals brains, soaks hearts,
With its two ice-cold hands and crying eyes.
Nature is camouflaging itself in several parts
To display how changing carpet of Time flies.
Rainter, a fragment of Nature’s jumbled play,
Is nothing but a cyclic blend of its crude tools.
Some would sense it exciting, others may say
“Rainter, thou art disgusting except to the fools”