Icy hard hail beats down
Stinging, breaking, denting
Making even existence treacherous
You are warm with your own weather -
Changeable, volatile as a whim -
But with an ever-constant climate of
Tangy breezes and hopeful clouds
You bring the hot brilliant electricity,
the driving rhythm of thunder,
and, after, the cool renewing rain
That makes love grow, and even
possible
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem