White cotton clouds,
Blue, blue sky,
Over me,
What is this I see,
Two puppies playing,
There are several places,
Angels could be hiding,
They make themselves known,
While whistling in the wind,
But, in the depths of clouds,
There are storms brewing,
I'll just wait and see,
Thunder, as loud as dogs of Summer barking at me,
The air is thick and wet,
I've always wished I could fly away,
From the cold August rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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The poem creates a beautiful landscape of August rains preceded by fluffy puppy clouds, laud thunder and storms. This is all very charming and playful. There is no need to escape from its soft clutches.