Thunderstorm
The storm above the river roared,
With all its gathered might,
Recalling ancient legends stored,
The Thunder-maker's sight.
"It is God's wrath upon the lost,"
They crossed themselves in fear,"
A heavy price the proud will cost,
To make the sinners clear."
The storm played out and took its rest,
The Oyat filled with rain,
A river with good meaning blessed,
To find life's sense again...
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Author:
cellinic (
Offline) - Published: July 8th, 2026 05:06
- Comment from author about the poem: This text is a translation of the original cognominal poem by VIctor Trifoev
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 39
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments7
A great translation that preserves the feeling of tribulation and tumultuous vibrations that go with a storm. Well done.
well done
w, cellinic, this is a gut-punch in the best way. There’s such a mythic weight to this storm…it’s not just weather, it’s judgment, memory, and mercy all rolled into one. Great job on this! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Powerful work.
Beautiful work 👌
Well translated and a wonderful write
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