Give Me Rain

Upon the stalk of ripened grain,
the cobra coils in silent pain—
what torment, what unyielding chain,
yet still, O still, there falls no rain.
 
My life is parched, a thirst untold,
my spirit fading, faint and cold.
Grant me a drop, love’s soft refrain,
for still, O still, there falls no rain.
 
The flowerless tree, its barren crest,
where birds of longing lift their quest.
With upturned beaks they call in vain,
and still, O still, there falls no rain.
 
By day, by night, in restless chase,
I seek for joy, for love’s embrace.
But tears unending, since birth remain,
and still, O still, there falls no rain.
 
To hide my grief is deeper guile,
it grows, it swells, it mocks the smile.
O wash my shame, my soil, my stain—
yet still, O still, there falls no rain.