A Poetic translation of



Forests & mountains lay buried

Under miles of Sand

Rotting rivers ebb, dying!

Even God has laid down his hands

What have you done?

What have we done?


Parched …thirsting for a drop,

 As sand flows down his cheeks,

 Not a single dark cloud in the sky.

 Under the blazing sun,

 With only the hovering vultures for shade.

 Breathing … hoping!

 Fondly reminiscing, green fields swaying

 Cows scrunching away!

 Streams singing!

 Rivers roaring!

 Alas! churches, temples and mosques

 Are filled with people praying,



 For just a drop of water.

 Wandering in search for a droplets,

Will he find his way back?

As the paucity increases,

Hope begins to dwindle

He prays for a quick,

Merciful death

How lucky… oblivious the city is;

Veined with its pipes and canals,

Showing off fancy fountains,

And gushing taps

Brimming glasses!

Please take a moment,

Remember those dying for just a drop

You must stop,

There’s a little time

Wastage of this precious,

Life sustaining liquid is a crime!



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