When The Rain Withholds Poem by Rajendra Prasad Meena Jaipur India

The burning sun beats bright on the barren land,
Dry dust drifts like dreams from the dying ground.
The fields lie thirsty, the flowers fade,
And weary winds wander without a drop.

The people wait beneath the white-hot sky,
Their tired eyes turned toward the distant clouds.
No silver rain, no soft shower falls;
Only heat and hardship haunt the earth.

O Rain, where linger your long-lost waters?
Why do you wander beyond our waiting world?
Come with your coolness, come with your clouds,
And cover the cruel sun with a kindly shade.

Let rivers rise and restless fields rejoice;
Let seeds awaken and green leaves grow.
For Earth is tired, and humanity waits—
May heaven send rain, and restore the living land.