stabbing the hoe to the ground, he looked up:
O seasons, where is your statement?
He sat
knees bent, he caress the soil which
he flatter
this is just the beginning: we will keep going
He stared at the lush of foliage
brown, pooled on the parched plain
O wind, give me a promise!
He sat cross-legged, set his breathing
I am falling in love to this land
give me a baby
a handsome,
the huge one
then the wind sough
bring dry leaves, dust
to the holes of dry arid land
then the rain poured, heavy, floody
he still there, kneeling on the fog:
“I am longing for this for long long time!”
