Mother Wind

The wind is a woman with rain in her heart.
The arms of the wind are full of dead leaves.
I am coming, wind. Mother, I am coming
I am racing through the sighing grass.
I am running where the fringe of your shawl sweeps the earth.
The pine wood is howling on the height,
I will meet you at the edge of the cliff.
Will you teach me to fly? Will you teach me to dance?
Mother Wind, I am in your hand.