The wind blows the down pour, making smoke like waves roll across the land
While the heavens show their true colors up above,
Before the bright can once again turn shadowed as the darkest crow,
A glorious explosion rattles the bones of man
And wondrous blast of light streak down never ceasing until
Meeting the ground as if nature is at war with us,
I do decree, nature wins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem