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 cloud–
Father of gale hovering over the green
And beneath the phoebe.
My soul is ready yet
Why isn’t it evaporated?
O Maker! "Where art thou!" Flare of glory!
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 11:23 AM UTC
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 cloud–
Father of gale hovering over the green
And beneath the phoebe.
My soul is ready yet
Why isn’t 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.
Request permission to use this poem