Drought
The pregnant clouds
have deprived us a rainfall.
The evergreen trees
shrinking and bowing
to this misfortune.
The noisy rivers are silenced
and left with skeletons of fishes.
The village well
that never empties
now cries out
as it echoes.
Our crops are wilted.
I see no recent harvest.
Why this aqua curse?
The only water I see
is that rolling from our cheeks.
If I live
to see another day,
Curse be upon Poseidon.
