With a rushing gust, the clouds swayed high
After long summers, the rain arrived
Children leapt with joy,
But the rain grew stronger.
Fields were destroyed,
Grain was swept away,
Cattle drowned,
Homes were undone.
Some hearts stopped beating.
Hungry, homeless, and hopeless voices
Cried out for help.
Eyes turned toward the city,
Beyond the storm's despair,
City lights glimmered far away,
Where a man sat by his window,
Counting coins.
While the night outside
Held broken lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem