The sky is solemn and still.
Clouds are without group.
The scorching heat says -No,
you can't fall with your troop.
The roads look like mirage,
water ahead it seems.
Buds are getting withered;
plants forget their dreams.
Not a single bird I see,
twittering in my neighborhood.
The leaves of trees are droopy,
no breeze is blowing in the woods.
The soothing drops of rain water,
the earth is praying for.
Rain, O rain come down and cool,
the soil of our thirsty shore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem