All the leafy ones
Hand-like, to the sky
Parched pleading, but shake
In a thunder's reply
With expectant joy.
A-gleam for to be
Of those drops, if cold
Thwacked agreeably.
All that our ears on
Shut, closing behind
Which door, heaviest
Denounces this kind
Of indelicate aid.
And with a loud curse!
Home's; for what keeps out
Bad weather; or worse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem