Just now, the rain,
It’s swollen outside,
It hits the ground,
With force and with sound.

All drops are the same,
They all have no name,
And when they hit on the clay,
What’s hard becomes hale.

You say, ha, what can this little drops do?
To this big and hard land.
This monolith of strength,
Can never understand.

When enough of them come,
Rivers form, oceans are borne.
On his back they churn,
Eating up from his bone.

Where the monolith was,
Only the cracks, remain.
Where the mud was,
Only good grain.

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