I had to go to the mountains, to find rain,
It's absent in these parts;
there's no moisture on this lonely plain,
there's a dryness in our hearts.
So, I drove five hours, up to Big Lake,
I took the scenic route;
the road showed wetness in its wake,
evidence of rain about.
In the mist of morning, I saw elk and deer,
looking for a fishing place;
I felt the tug of nature in my mind, so near,
I felt my worries all erase.
The fish ignored my lure and swam away,
No trout would grace my pan;
I'll live to fish somewhere else, another day,
and I'll catch one if I can.
We left that gorgeous spot, heading for the rim,
where seven mountain ranges caught our eye;
and we could see the light begin to dim,
as the clouds began to build a bit, by and by.
This time I tried Woods Canyon Lake,
and tried again my fishing lair;
but nothing I did induced a fish to take,
but I saw two blue herons floating in the air.
And the rain? Yes, it came, as we pitched the tent,
and we sneaked in, just in time;
and blissfully we read and slept...at peace and content,
and I tell you now, in this short rhyme.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem