The wind is blowing, the clouds are floating,
And the green trees flutter all the day long.
Sails are ready, it's a fine day for boating,
In orange sunshine, birds are singing a song.
Can you hear the wind, whistling a happy tune,
And making the tallest trees shiver and shake?
Or dancing in a garden, with flowers of June?
But when the wind is dying, a sighing it makes.
Can you hear it howling, whenever it is angry,
And people have to run fast after their hats?
Then it blows softly again, in a passing fancy,
And crimson butterflies play with curious cats!