Rain In Kentucky
Slowly the rain comes
down as a steady shower.
Soon it pelts down in anger
as the fountain gains in power.
Pouring down on the tin roof,
Like wild horses running free.
While rivulets run down the pane,
stirring me, thrilling me.
There is no feeling like it
when the sky is leaden and dark.
Coziness is all around
while a faint voice is heard, a lark.
Lightening streaks across the sky;
the trumpet of thunder is heard
roaring like a hungry lion attacking the slowest in the herd.
The rain has subsided now,
the sun comes out in its glory.
The bow that God did set
reminds me of the old story.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem