The night is dark,
from my perch I watch,
crashes of lightning,
the heavens raging war.
The crackling thunder,
sounds of cannon fire;
a noise heard all around.
The wind is screaming, roaring.
The rain, pounding at my feet.
Still, I sat adrift in thought,
cloaked in a robe of rain.
Droplets of water upon my brow,
the moist scent air, I breathe.
Still I sat, awestruck found,
praising this glorious storm.
Still I wonder, this raging war;
crashes of lightning,
with crackling thunder, cannon fire.
Which side is winning?
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Still I wonder this raging war, O glorious storm what you are exactly. Beautifully expressed poem with nice feelings.