a gray day without rain
it seems a waste
a failed campaign
the dark mood of muted light
can cast no
reassuring light
a bright hope when prayer is done
yet hears a distant
kettle drum
that pledges rain by afternoon
its sweet relief
is coming soon
to wake the desiccated earth
a midwife
for the lilies birth
and what do gray days hold for me
I guess I must
just wait to see
I may be spirit and the power
or just the dust
beneath the bower
and either way is right by me
for either way
at last I'm free
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent formed its verses and stanzas.The scene described vivid.