They say: It's cloudy outside, but I insist saying: It's not cloudy, but They're just passing clouds crossing Into the pretty cities and the pretty Villages of the pretty countries to Rain pretty drops, so all rivers and Creeks are becoming swollen, then they Flood on the pretty rivers' banks, There are many kinds of clouds especially The dark and the pregnant ones that travel To certain lands to give birth to pretty Drops of rain, so a new life comes to Dead lands anytime and anywhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem