Here comes
The drizzle,
Sprinkling from the
Seamless ether;
Again the
Tickling trickles,
Hit the leaves
And splinter;
I had enough
Of sunshine;
My skin is burnt,
The earth is bare;
I love the fine mist
Blowing
And settling
On my hair
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the musical and playful tone of the first two paragraphs. The imagery of the last two is fantastic.