It rains and rains
Slowly and slowly
And the people in the village
In their houses made of mud
Cannot enjoy it more
There is a fear around
The roofs may fell down
They pray all the time
So life is in some stiff time
A dirty faced child came out of his home
And shrieked and run away fast
With a unknown joy and amusement
His clothes were no more clean
For he wants to get more of the mud
A loaf of bread in his hand
Fell down from his hand
And he was up sit down
With thrashing skill he stood up
Ran again with a full muddy face
Behind the muddy walls he disappeared
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem