Dust covered land
makes my throat itch
well cracked and dry
Nothing but a parched ditch.
Crops withering away
telling of our future
of hunger and poverty
Rain is the only cure.
Scraping all of our money together
preparing for the worst
eating very little
tastes like dirt
then drip
then more
my heart soars!
we will live
because of happy rain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem