“An exhortation by a frog”
Under the rush of thirst, under July’s burning sunshine
Chained in roasted soil, groaned the thorn:
“I count the coming and leaving days everyday.”
Answers the frog in muddy and slimy rushy:
“how long to remain thirsty? Set yourself free like us
Took a pace forward, drink from a goblet and stop saying.”
“Be quiet! Being chained is more pleasant than having hands in sludge”