The Truth

a poem by Rama

Like a wounded dog
I returned in desperation;
The hope in me receded
In search of peace
Accompanied by regrets
I gazed at the declining
Evening sky, loaded with
Enormous clouds, which had
Just then let loose
Its prey-the Moon-Once again
Returning to its routine
To achieve its goal.
Suddenly,
The truth struck me-that
The rains shed by the clouds
Are not tears but sweat;
The sweat of Labour.
I have begun
To imitate the cloud
I try to change
My tears into sweat
Now I hope.