There are flowers that come only with the rain.
They wait quietly below ground
For the wetness that is delivered.
Then up they come into the light,
They come and show their petals,
Some of pure white, some tinged with pink.
And last for only a day.
Quietly they come, quietly they go.
Waiting for that perfect time
To sing praises for the rain.
And lend mystery to the wonders of Nature.
(2.4.8 Mischief)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem