Kali the mother

The stars are blotted out, Clouds are covering clouds, It is darkness, vibrant, sonant. In the roaring whirling wind Are the souls of a million lunatics, But loosed from the prison house, Wrenching trees by the roots, Sweeping all from the path. The sea has joined the fray, And swirls up mountain-waves, To reach the pitchy sky. Scattering plagues and sorrows, Dancing mad with joy, Come, Mother, Co...