To wrest a torrent awaited gray clouds,
Over slatey, somber clay grounds.
Initial drops of rain blotted to circles of mire.
For unquestionable thirst of life is mo fire.
Yen ardour to survive droughts so retell
Rains are relief, hope heavens re sell.
Veiled sun confused the hours of day,
Further more to paint what could do Fay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem