WhenstormcloudsrumbleintheskyandJuneshowerscomedown,
Themoisteastwindcomesmarchingovertheheathtoblowitsbagpipesamongthebamboos.
Thencrowdsofflowerscomeoutofasudden, fromnobodyknowswhere, anddanceuponthegrassinwildglee.
Mother, Ireallythinktheflowersgotoschoolunderground.
Theydotheirlessonswithdoorsshut, andiftheywanttocomeouttoplaybeforeitistime, theirmastermakesthemstandinacorner.
Whentherainscometheyhavetheirholidays.
Branchesclashtogetherintheforest, andtheleavesrustleinthewildwind, thethunder-cloudsclaptheirgianthandsandtheflowerchildrenrushoutindressesofpinkandyellowandwhite.
Doyouknow, mother, theirhomeisinthesky, wherethestarsare.
Haven’tyouseenhoweagertheyaretogetthere?Don’tyouknowwhytheyareinsuchahurry?
Ofcourse, Icanguesstowhomtheyraisetheirarms: theyhavetheirmotherasIhavemyown.
