My eyes pour out tears to God, and I rejoice at the sound of the flute;
I sing with the tambourine and harp, for September rain is falling;
The rain blows like straw before the wind, yet the clouds are not broken.
Under those clouds I continue to rejoice, for September rain is falling;
The moon moves brightly in the sky, and the spirit of God moves the clouds;
they supply the September rain, which is falling on the land and the broad waters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem