The rains refused to come
To the land
Wearing a balding scape,
Grasses scorched up
In a youthful dead.
Volatile air licked the oases
With its tongue
Wind gathered its breath
And poured it over the dunes.
The land is now a desert
Without sand,
Only stones stand gazing
At their loneliness
And weep the stones did.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem