The clouds retune like an orchestra,

through the endless sky of Meghalaya.

The pregnant clouds were shaped with hope,

The lightning strikes harshly,

The thunder roars loudly.

The rain loves the 'land of clouds '.

Creating a rhythm

on the Assam-type homes of the Khasi folk.

Away from the city are the roaring waterfalls of Cherra,

Falling like tears along the cheeks of mother nature.

The rivers and streams running along like highways

Carries everything that blocks its way.

The trees and flowers are dancing

under the shade of trees, the birds flip their wings.

The hills turn green once again,

Kissing the fog, the mist, and the rain.

Most people love rainy days;

Music in their heart replays,

After a long, dry and cold winter

Their heart now dance with the flowers.

There are people who hate rainy days;

It blows their candles away,

They are scared of thunder,

Tons of weight on their shoulder.

Rain in these hills is the great gift,

But still for some it's a curse.

When humans do not value the gift

It became a curse.

Oh rain oh gain,

Oh rain oh pain!.