blue clouds forming east
cold breeze soon be felt
changing wind direction
relief is coming to thirsty
soil will spit extra moisture
to flow down to lower plains
silent moan of earth i feel
breathe i hear so my skin
whispers of joy from plants
those roots digging deep
cease for a moment resting
just like we are when waiting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem