I am sick of spongy grass, wetly green,
Water trapped around its roots on the once firm ground.
Even the ducks look bedraggled in the damp rot all around.
I pick my way through the dankness,
Hoping a gap in the clouds will hold back the rain.
A wan sun shines weakly in a trembling blue sky,
Meekly accepting another day of pain.
(February 2012)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem