The Sun, only several minutes ago
by Edward Schwartz
Sparkling like lips of the bride,
Has vanished from the sky;
White innocent clouds suddenly became dark
From the impatient wishes;
The underwood groans and droops,
Dreaming to be embraced by the rain;
The land trembles from the expectation of love,
And, at last, first drops fall on the ground
Like a sweat of a hardworker . . .
But soon the thunderstorm
Tears off the mask of a tender rain,
Turning into a frantic storm . . .