Plops of fat drops of water
Fell from the dark skies
Slowly splatting onto the tarred roads
and on the windshields of all the cars
Creating little geographies of rivers
In the dust of the summer
And bringing with them the promise of life
In my heart silent tears fell
For the first of the many monsoons
Without you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem