Rain Poem by Famida Basheer

All true the spattering of rain
upon the disillusioned and the brave
dousing grasshoppers and crowds
intentional and knave

Upon the hill the dead
unhurried and asleep
will feel the thump of first rain
but will not wake or peep

a dry sun as it rides beyond
this thirsted cloud we see
swim deep oceans in the day
or straight the bended tree.

The solitude of rainfall
must weep its weep aloud.
The beatitude of the dead
must sleep its sleep asound.

Neither of the two can know
the haplessness of man
as here we watch with bated breath
to bring the washing in.