I hear the water swishing down,
this equilibrium of rain.
I think of waterfalls and trees
leaves dipped with liquid weight,
river floods that rush and foam
from clouds and burns to every firth
but more, how the wet-sated moss
blinks this raised mirror full of light,
invites parched earthlings to stumble
and plowter in its star-shaped pools,
or patchy depths and aqueous animals,
their lives made possible by mist and rain
as my life has been made possible in Scotland,
this country I love for its rain.
A really great poem, like it, a great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Indian forefathers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem has been made into a Filmpoem: Filmpoem 23 by Alastair Cook. easy to find on the internet