Oh, I am parched waiting here for you in the heat;
the smothering weather over my glistening skin.
The temperature will not permit me to stay.
I will leave without you if that must be.
I wither as I waste every morsel of water...
...dripping from me.... and I thirst.
I will go.... and leave you to your heat.
This scolding day will no longer entertain me.
Copyright ©® 12-18-2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem