Oh maiden of the sky, mighty and stout,
Magically spell-bound, any cause to trace out?
Oh dear cloud, see the man in the shroud,
Victim of your pride, once pride, once
Prayed you aloud.

Behold the seedlings, for whom do they long?
Do you watch the vapour of the labour day long?
Canals all cry for your kind, kind love,
Tanks crave for cheerful tears from above.

Softly and gently you fly beneath the sun,
At times hurriedly sweep the sky – a fun;
If pity you have, cloud, grant us a shower,
Aren’t you a spirit with heart and power?

Behold the children with paper boats of dreams,
In bounties of spirit, search for streams;
The roses morose at my door yard on staves,
The hopes of the living buried in the graves.

Glance like a glowworm, on leaves of Tamarind,
From thicket to thicket on the waves of the wind;
We’re perspired, hearts filled with tears,
Enhance our smiles and dispel the fears.

Oh cloud, my cloud, you’re the main
When you sail swift, we’re bereft in vain,
Sick at hearts and thrust in strain,
Pause for a while, pour showers of rain.