THE RAIN.

The rain, my sister dear,

The summer rain warm and clear,

Gently flees, gently flies,

Through the moist atmosphere.

Her collar of white pearls

has come undone in the skies.

Blackbirds sing with all your might,

Dance magpies!

Among the branches downward pressed,

Dance flowers, dance every nest,

All that comes from the skies is blest.

To my mouth she approaches

Her wet lips of strawberries wild;

She has touched me with a mouth that smiled,

Everywhere at once,

With her millions of little fingers.

On a lawn

Of sounding flowers,

From the dawn to the evening hours,

And from the evening to the dawn,

She rains and rains again,

She rains with might and main.

Then the sun with golden hair

Dries the bare

Feet of the rain.

Contemporary Belgian Poetry Selected and Translated by Jethro Bithell · 第 116 / 232 题