Pour, rain, pour down,
Awaken again in me those dreams
That I dreamt in childhood,
When the wetness foamed in the sand!

When the dull summer sultriness
Struggled languidly against the fresh coolness,
And the shiny leaves dripped with dew,
And the crops were dyed a deeper blue.

What bliss to stand in the downpour
With naked feet,
To roam in the grass
And seize the foam in one's hands!

Or with one's hot cheeks
To catch the cold drops;
And to the newly-awakened fragrances
To open one's childlike bosom!

Like the flower's chalices that dripped there,
The soul stood breathing openly,
Like the flowers, drunk with fragrance,
Submerged in the dew of the Heavens.

Every drop cooled with a tremor
Deep down to the heart's very beating,
And Creation's holy weaving
Pierced into one's hidden life.

Pour, rain, pour down,
Awaken the old songs
That we used to sing in the doorway
When the raindrops pattered outside!

I would like to listen to them again --
To their sweet, damp rushing --
To gently bedew my soul
With the devout terror I felt as a child.