The raven walked up the handrail to where he would hop onto the low
branch of the tree. He turned around, cocked his head, then looked at
me. A drop of rain fell on his beak. He shook it off and then he glanced
toward the sea. A wall of rain was coming our way so he walked deeper
into the tree. Me? I got as wet as I could be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem