Rain. Oh! Sweet rain.
Fall with your peculiar freshness.
Fall to ease our pains.
If possible, walk away with our weariness.
To the devout, you are a symbol of divine favour,
a source of respite in hot weather.
But science says you are water vapour,
because it feels it knows better.
The clatter of thy tiny drops
are like that of war-horses' hooves,
giving life to our withering crops,
but sorrow to those with leaking roofs
Oh! Rain, you are our source of joy.
With thy joy, we shall never toy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem