When a group of clouds gathered

Above the roofs and the gutters

The valley was filled with its chicken coops

Fields soaked with delicate dew

And when the buses are galloping

Between the town of the valley to the kibbutz

Eventually the windscreen wipers whistle

Songs of praise for rain

 

Alike the fruit and alike the wild flowers

(that we have already gathered)

The heat of the summer has also been gathered

Carrying a heavy harvest of heat waves

The roads open their eyes

Looking up at the heavens

And whisper softly upwards

The maker of the rain – he is blessed!

A crow on the cables calls

On the windows the first rain hits

(And it is not coincidence

That man was created at the start of Tishrei).

Noisy thunder

Shakes all the institutes of the heavens –

Cloud rider continue to wash away!

Rain! Never ending rain!

And when the blessing of rain flows

The world stops moving

And it rings out unhindered

A pomegranate between land and sky