Multi-purpose
In plain where the rain is scarce
The farmer had ploughed
And sowed seeds
And his eye
To sky.
He prayed and worried:
“Will rain come? ”
His life could flourish with water…
September’s hand is out:
“I am leaving so goodbye! ”
Came first rain of autumn
Most of leaves turned yellow
Dead hands waved in breeze:
“We are leaving so goodbye! ”
Looking up to clouds; came question:
“What is rain? Medicine? Poison? ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem