O Rain maker! Don't charge me with lightnings, My cries echo like thunder; Empty me like that docile cloud which 's just Wept over the world round, That calm and peaceful white cloudβ Father of gale hovering over the green And beneath the phoebe. My soul is ready yet Why isnβt it evaporated? O Maker! "Where art thou!" Flare of glory!
It' an unfinished poem, just an over flow .of emotion. I wrote it in a single sitting.