The whispers spread
through the breeze.
It touches the flowers
and sways the trees.
The wind increases
among the herds,
The flocks of sheep
and the flying birds.
The wrath of nature
darkens the sky.
The winds blow harder
and the debris fly.
A twister moves
and its path is wide.
People run fast
and in cellars hide.
Blowing in the wind
with cloth and wood.
Mystery whirls
and is hidden good.
Destroying winds
of feelings stirred.
The wind once gentle
is strong and heard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem