Petrichor [French translation]

The incessant winds of evening caress my skin

And to my ears they whisper, "It will rain soon."

I look up to a tree which towers high above me

And suddenly its golden leaves flutter all around.

A rustling symphony permeates the air

And so I close my eyes and listen

Is this bliss -- ASMR perhaps?

And again my eyes are closed and I listen

As a bolero of thunder breaks the sky

And lightning strikes abruptly all around

I look down to raindrops on the bough

And their echoes murmur back to me, "The storm is over."

The winds have ceased, leaving the nightly petrichor on my face.