The thundercloud of anger hangs down low
As if it were not human in its start
Exploding rage will bomb the crops below
The trickle, when blocked off, will grow and grow
A sulk becomes a threat, a ruinous art
The thundercloud of anger hangs down low
When the feelings like young rivers flow;
When we do not feed resentful hearts,
Exploding rage won’t harm the crops below
If we don’t retaliate with blows
But hold the pain as if in counterpoint
The thundercloud of anger melts and so it goes
In every heart, an hatred is disowned,
Or venom lodges in the nerves and joints
Calm the rage, don’t harm the crops below
How difficult it is to play our parts
Without the rage destroying lovers’ hearts
The thundercloud of anger shrinks to show
Our firm desire to save the crops below?
How my heart sings 