I challenged the storm to battle one day when
the rains were heavy and the sky was dark;
he asked me what would I give up if I lose.
"My heart", I said, and he readily agreed.
The wind was howling and
the sky grew darker.
I punched him with all my might,
and kicked him on his face cursing;
I threw sand on his eyes and wrestled
with his cold breath against my nose.
But he was far stronger than I thought as
he rolled down his thunder shaking the hills,
and flashed his lightning splitting down
the trees; the rain soaked my eyes and
he whipped me black and blue and
I almost died;
I thought I heard him laugh
as he left me lying in the cold.
When I woke up the storm was gone,
and so was my heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem