Whirling from the west,
Madly running without rest,
Sharply, all vests abreast.
Windvanes runs out to the test,
The wind is truly from the west.
As the wind sweeps along the paths,
Like a king trees bow as he pass.
Is this arrival not a world class?
Every lass the mighty tree has,
Falls as the wind proves his class.
The pregnant cloud takes her form,
Saying the pregnant cloud is set to born,
Once again a very mighty storm.
All white and yellow to black they turn.
Thence comes that heavy thunderstorm.
Darting in and out, madly.
Traders praying, 'Rain go away, ' sadly,
Children, out with their pants, happily,
Dancing, singing, 'Rain, rain fall heavily'
As the rain pours down madly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.