Skip to main content
Happy rain knows time and season;
Should come in Spring, cause life to rise.

Borne on wind, secretly it enters night;
Soaks all growing things, is fine, without sound.

On path in outskirts, clouds all black;
On boat in river, light shines lone.

At dawn, see places where vermilion blooms are wet
Flowers hang heavy in Embroidered Official City.
Rate this poem
No votes yet