I love the crashes and the smashes
And the rumble of the thunder,
And the white-hot of the lightning,
As it splits the world asunder.
When the rain comes down by buckets;
Down the street a river flows,
And the ozone from the lightning
Burns the lining of your nose,
And the storm moves to the distance
And the clouds permit the sun
To burst through and shed the sunlight
Just to show the storm is done.
Then a multi-colored rainbow
Arcs across the heaven's span;
A celestial flower garden,
Made to some celestial plan.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem