Oh stormy eyed woman,
Only dark and desolate places,
Can bear your clouds tonight.
Like a young and petulant child,
scribbling quick with curious hands,
The colors of your cloudy traces,
leave silver lightning on our faces.
Patient as water turned to ice,
motionless trees within the night,
Sigh in longing for a bright sunrise.
Only those who perish a bit,
Can bear your crackling light.
Impatient though,
you won’t stay long,
Blowing westward to the call,
Of distant fields in thirsty song.