The sun beats down
on the dry orange earth.
Chickens scurry picking
for food here and there.
Children play
the game of life
for when they grow.
The rain comes
fast, furious, beating down.
Washing a way the dryness
and is gone.
Leaving the sun
baking the earth
once more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem