The cloud is not the same
It is dark and flitting slow
It is not going up in the sky
Over the land it is hanging low
The cloud is full of rain
It will pour at any time
It will create beads of pearl
When it falls across the stream
The cloud makes music
While pacing the vast sky
When it falls as drops of rain
Across the meadows from so high
The cloud comes from water
To water it does return
Now it is hanging over the land
After a moment it is dead and gone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am getting a smell of P. B. Shelley's 'Cloud" ............great work......10++