The rain is coming
Its signs come with spoken warning
And lightening of destruction;
And the roaming thunder of pressure
Upon whom does it fall?
The volcano is erupting
It fall not upon the masters
The masters knew and ran;
Living the peasants all in ruin
For they knew but can't run
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Masterly composition. Reminds one of the dying days of Nigeria's civil war.