I'll tell you about a girl.
She, the fairy tale, is not the happiest.
But I already know…believe me, it's true
that even in sadness, a tear makes sense...


The girl is a little old,
to call her a woman---does not look like.
Because if no one is looking at her,
she is still running crazy with the clouds.


In the rain, even the umbrella does not open.
In the cold, she despises gloves.
She will smile kindly at the tramp.
And she will stare at the wet sparrows.


Sometimes she's terribly tired...
Most of all out of herself. And from everything.
She can never manage to grow up.
Being mature is unusual for her.


Life lessons, she does not learn.
But she can recite to you lovely lines.
She'll always flood you with questions,
her paths...aren't white.


And you will always be on the exam with her, as
she simply does not forgive betrayals.
She has a talent and carries it inside herself.
To distribute. And to be distributed…


If you ever meet her, tell her
that clouds are infinitely important!
Or don't say anything, just hug her.
Every great thing---it comes wet from the rain.