Rain over the pine trees

Quiet! At the edge of the forest, I don’t hear human voices, but newer words made of drops and distant leaves. Listen! The rain from the scattered clouds: rain over the tamarisks, salty and burnt, rain over the pine trees, scaly and bristling, rain over the myrtles, divine, over the shining brooms with gathered flowers, over the thick junipers with fragrant berries, Rain over our woodland faces, rain on our bare hands, on our light clothes, on the fresh thoughts that the soul unveils anew, on the beautiful tale that yesterday beguiled you, that today beguiles me, Hermione