No Rain
Rain never falls upon this land.
The heat is strong, the shrubs are dry,
And dust flies loosely all around,
Under a shimmering, glaring sky.
My feet are scorched by frying sand;
My head is burned by angry rays;
I wend upon this flaming ground,
And watch the hours turn into days.
At night it cools, yet no relief
Will comfort in my turning sleep;
The air oppressively berates;
My rest is neither sound nor deep.