Warm rain swept my face as I walked the lonely road,
With the scent of sweet honeysuckle capturing the moment.
The birch trees sway gently in the windy summer rain,
And visions of childhood appear without refrain.
The sound of thunder rolls across the sky overhead,
In a clearing the lightening bolt strikes the near meadow's edge.
I've always loved the rain and never knew why.
Perhaps it was the surrendering of farm work as a boy,
That first caught my eye.
Fondest memories of rainy days have never eluded,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem