A crocodile ruled an African pond;
Beneath the waters he hid.
During a drought, the animals came,
All “thirsty, ” with their kids.
And while seeking just a little drink
To cool their parching tongue,
The old croc would launch attacks—
Putting them on the run.
But in the end, fate would change—
The croc would get his due.
The draught won. The pond dried up.
And his skeleton laid in view.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem