“When the first shower of the rainy season
Has fallen on them, parched with thirst and longing,
In glee each wet and dripping frog jumps upward;
The green one and the speckled join their voices.
“They shout aloud like Brahmans drunk with soma,
When they perform their annual devotions:
Like priests at service sweating o’er the kettle,
They issue forth; not one remains in hiding.
“The frogs that bleat like goats, that low like cattle,
The green one and the speckled give us riches;