Oh, cloud!
We met in the middle days of the winter,
Then passed the cruel stretch of horribly hot
summer,
That tattered my surface, shattered my core,
Compelled my greenery to face death premature.
You were never so late to deliver your rain,
Always care for my needs and concerns.
It is getting late; I need your instant
intervention,
Merciful relief and graceful considerations.
The hours of wait seem torturous continuity,
I feel dying breathless in this condition of
aridity.
Desperately my meadows look up every hour,
In your direction for the flowery of your
shower.
It seems you forgot the way to my circle,
Or maybe the air has become so indifferently
inimical,
That it is not delivering the news of my
misery to you,
Or else, it is unlikely for you to abstain
from obviating my blue.
Come in; rain on me tup-tap, tup-tap, tup-tap,
Play with my foliage zhip-zhap, zhipr-zhap.
Fill my ears with the honey of these
euphoriant sounds,
Reign my soul; reincarnate me with your
blissful magnitude.
Poignant.
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