The fields outside the window are full of brown dust
And the wheat just won't rise
It slumps, withered and exhausted,
Like a man gone down the alley
The papers say this is the worst it's been in a long time
The sun is pale and blunt and merciless
And the dry brown wind blows faster each day
And M.D. has decided these are drought conditions
And they beg you to save, conserve,
Please do not use
Anymore than you need
But it is hot
The wheat slumps, overcome,
And the dirty brown wind blows harder each day
I reach into the fridge and I take what I want
Lovingly hidden behind the coffee can
And I slake myself
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
enjoyed reading till end................