Over the mountain's soft mantles of blue,
Racks of white cloud by the sunshine shot through;
Spring's waking glories o'er valley and plain,
After the rain.
Over the heart steals the sun-light at last,-
Shadow and storm from the landscape have passed;
Gladly the soul sings in respite from pain,
After the rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem