Go listen on the greening plain
and tell me what you hear,
if dust clouds or a sweeping rain
might visit us this year.
She left so long, the rain-cloud girl,
with eyes that made you die.
She'd make the flowers all unfurl
and all her lovers sigh.
That girl I loved so long ago
and never knew her name,
I see in every winter's snow
and every summer's flame.
(Photo credit: "Wet" from Hartwig HKD on Flickr)
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