it's not exactly raining
the sky is just complaining
that's what we get in June
the east wind blows a tune
that I know all too well
the sea in the conch shell
claims the storm is coming
the faint distant drumming
the Florida tropical storm
struggles to transform
the hush of intermission
like a divine musician
it's just another season
I do not know the reason
but seasons here are few
like ones that I once knew
the hot the cool the wet
the storms I won't forget
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I remember being in Florida and it always rained around 4pm. Are the seasons that you knew English?