"I'm the harder than you think of",
A stone shouts at the dripping drops,
"Your debile drops neither make,
A pothole nor brim a pond".
"No, no, we never think of",
Respond with smiles by the dripping drops,
"we're formless travelling tinkers,
To fix too many tiny troubles daily".
"I have lifted you with this world",
By increasing his chest, the stone says,
"Without me, whether you or soils,
Hard to imagine for a second".
Debating for decades, anyway,
Between them,
The dripping drops remain the same,
But the stone slowly washed away.
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