heat hangs heavy
in wet silent air
clouds are brewing
telling me to beware
weather is changing
and not for the good
it seems like a threat
to frail brotherhood
the season of storm
the season of flood
the rumble of thunder
is chilling my blood
the sound is a gun
the winds are a fire
the tempest erupts
with will and desire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem