The farmers cry; slightly more each day
The heavens closed; refusing to rain
The insects take all for their dinner
Whilst seedlings die, and do not give grain.
The farmer bows- starts worrying;
He fears his labor would be in vain.
With the earth cursed: in both air and ground,
It is sorrowful to see the sight.
Man’s legacy from Adam and Cain;
Soils ignoring their desperate plight;
They wish each were of the seven years
Uninformed they work with all their might.
Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem