Oh long and pelting April rain,
Which courts the grass and window panes,
And lines the sky with thunder light-
(Which stops the sparrows in mid-flight)
Wicked bullets of the night-
Inhibiting my rest.
Could not the clouds flee well afar?
Would willows wonder where they are?
Or red rose moan, and complain-
Without the interrupting rain?
Such arrogance I have displayed!
A storm is nature's guest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well writtten poem. I always like verses that rhyme.