The thirsty lands pray for rain,
Farmers go hungry; no water- no grain.
The parched lands beneath dry tanned skins,
The masses, the cattles, the produce thins.
Eyes gazing upwards, in hope, remain,
Their prayers unanswered, all in vain,
Their dried up wells and dried up dreams,
Drought hit it all, it seems.
Our ears ache for the melody of rain,
To put an end to all their pain,
And when the sweet trickling showers do show,
Prayers of gratitude mightily grow.
The melody of rain that all have prayed for,
The once harsh, now clouded sun,
Has sprouted life once more,
One by one, one by one.