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Under the wilting, boiling heat of May,
When the sun beats down in furious rage;
And mankind can do naught but pray
For deliverance, for succour, for peace, for rain…
When a few drops sprayed, like manna from above,
Are just not enough, and not many are relieved
When weeks still pass, like hell, yet how
The sun, still infuriated, still looking peeved…
Parches the land, dries out its face,
Burns up the grass, empties the lakes,
And witness is man to its wrath, to erase
Any semblance of sanity, as summer awakes…
Oh for some water, a deluge today…
To slake our thirsts, to ease our fevered pain,
Oh for some water, to send our way…
What must we do, to be blessed with some rain?