The sun was on his last rage,
All the rivulets and chasm were,
Springs and pounds were,
Getting dried up day by day,
Flying the thirsty crows were,
Over the pounds and rivulets,
Not for, some drops for water.
But for the same, water was,
Need of the fishes in the dried
Pounds and rivulets, where, they,
Were waiting for last drop of water,
And first drop of rain to save them,
But the crows were so clever intended,
To grab the chance from fore locks,
The prayers of fishes for life saving drops,
And the hunger of crows both were,
Echoing in the horrible hot climate of
The area, at last hunger won as pound,
Were dried up and trembling fishes ,
Lost in the hunger of crows.