When the thunder stalks the sky,
When tickle-footed walks the fly,
When shirt is wet and throat is dry,
Look, my darling, thats July.
Through the grassy lawn be leather,
And prickly temper tug the tether,
Shall we postpone our love for weather?
If we must melt, lets melt together!
I enjoyed that poem and I particularly enjoyed the description of the fly's manner of walking
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's romantic to the core.