storm clouds are hanging
above our house.
it was an accurate forecast.
restless birds and flashes
in the sky,
they are letting know,
that it is approaching.
thunder is striking
right after the lightning,
in nearby forest, where
darkness already at this hour.
in the morning the announcement
of damages, and repairing
what will be given to repair.
rest, for wasting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem