I have been moulded by many a caring little hand
I have come to life as if a fairy has waved a wand
I can now listen to the children’s joyful sound
In the midst of a battle where snowballs are hurled around
Children return to mothers arms as shadows grow longer
And every passing minute here makes my life shorter
They’ve named me Fatso, though I’ve never been fed
And now I am left alone with eternal fireflies overhead-

Sooner or later I will be a cloud again to carry
Water to wild flowers on a distant mountain and ferry
Down to an underground torrent, join the sea as a stream
To help ships sail until lifted up again by sun’s beam-
Oft it’s my sacred duty to carry water to the brave
Soldier’s epitaph to keep the surroundings green at his grave
And when I carry seasonal rain dancing farmers make me blush
And I, speak through a poet’s pen and a painter’s brush!