She wakes up from the bed, <br />Hearing her arise, a dozen eyes open, <br />Opens the lid to find little left, <br />the dried eyes, not even struggle. <br /> <br />The crying baby needs to be fed, <br />Holds him tight near her breast, <br />The mother cries at the baby's bite, <br />The baby cries for there is no milk. <br /> <br />Comes out of the hut to look above, <br />It is clear and clean as someone swept, <br />She hears the wind at a distance, <br />And the pot is kept out to collect. <br /> <br />It runs fast carrying all the elixir, <br />Over the green and blue not at brown, <br />No visa to enter and exit, O clouds! <br />Why do you haunt with your sold. <br /> <br />The spring from the underground in middle east, <br />prosper the desert countries with high rise, <br />Moscow can bring water from Siberia in tubes, <br />crying over water is a real mismanagement of fools.<br /><br />veeraiyah subbulakshmi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-mismanagement-of-fools/
