(Milan Hlavsa/Jirina Zemanova)  A strand of hair shielding my eyes  No one can see  With a trembling hand I remove the haze  To awake my troubled eyes  I am the wind  I sweep but don't clean  I carry the dirt farther away  I am the sun  I am of no use to blossoming buds or ripening fruits  At times I peek from behind the clouds  And shine through myself  I am the rain  My drops will not touch you  For I am the flood  ----------------------------------------------------------