I snoozed in my arm chair
I saw a worm struggle
I set it free, to ease its dismay
But then I saw there was nay
'Coz it had wilted away.
All the time I thought
the heavens wept
they were promises kept
Whilst I complained of the mid daylight
'twere the blessings shining bright.
I grieved of walking alone
I knew not he carried me home.
The risk in staying a bud
is far more perilous than becoming a flower.
The worm that struggles
flies its best
For after all, the best thing to do
when 'tis raining
is Let It Rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem