The voyagers beheld the sky intently
'Will it rain?
If it does our journey is spoiled;
It had better not.'
But the clouds took in just the same,
Conception is erratic sometimes;
Dark nimbus above their heads
Like swords of damocles
Threatening a watery onslaught.
Drip drip drip
Before the torrents,
Merciless deluge in sharp ladders
Beat staccato on their temples;
The old friar prays
And bolsters his fellows.
'The rain came just the same
It cared too ill for us.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem