I almost cry in mirth when
The tiny beads slip down my face
They caress my body as my mother's hand
And give me joy soaking my dress
I almost cry in mirth when
The tiny drops make soft music
Into my ears and let me dance in joy as
They make runnels and flow down quick
I almost cry in mirth when
The clouds gather thick and dark
I run to the fields with my friends
To play in the rain leaving my work
I am old now but turn
Into a child when the raindrops fall
I love the touch of the shining drops
And when down my body they gently roll
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem