Up in the sky,
A cloud hangs on,
Up there so high,
By the wind blown.

He's fluttered by the wind,
Pushed and carried,
Running and flying,
In the sky's grid.

He is brought to give rain,
Upon people's heads,
For lakes to water gain,
And to rise and grow all the plants.

He's only one cloud,
Such a little piece,
In such a big world,
But so important he is.

Here comes the wind,
To take him somewhere else,
To take him wetting the field,
And spreading water upon the grass.

So he looks down to the ground,
Where he spent most of his summer,
And now is bounded like a dangerous hound,
And is forced to be some kind of a palmer.

No, he wants to stay,
He denies his pre-planned fate,
Even if he'll be back on May,
Back to his summer-mate.

Yet the wind keeps blowing,
And he can't keep his grip,
Nature is still leading,
And to follow him he must keep.