The clouds of revolution are forming
upon the distant yellow sky,
to unleash a vast sea of rain,
for too long, held in store within.
Soon there shall be a violent wind,
tearing down grand palaces and
petty slums alike, to the ground
well before the rain is unleashed.
Soon there shall be a violent surge
rising up from the riverbeds,
deprived and dark, to touch the sky
for the round moon is bleeding too.
Vicious tidal waves shall kiss,
gnawing with their ravishing lips,
the shore, littered with heaps of stone
and grind the rubble to grains of sand.
Then finally the rain shall come,
the much awaited rain, to sprinkle life
upon the barren sand, too dry
and from the ashes shall a nation rise.