The Umbrian people are thought the oldest in Italy; they are believed to have been called Ombrii (here, "the people of the thunderstorm," after ὅμβρος, "thunderstorm") by the Greeks because they survived the deluge (literally "the inundation of the lands by thunderstorms, imbribus).
Pliny the Elder
Natural History, Chapter 19
You built me to a climax
but I came first;
the weather was oppressive,
but I sat by the tracks
and learned how to say
I am not impressive
if I have not understood how to speak to you
in your own worth;
in your own tongue
that rolls over my dearth
in shivering comfort.
The heat is felt and embraced,
not heard;
where you and I meet
is between heaven and someone else's mirthful eyes,
overpowering my own gaze
when I stare into the mirror
and try, in vain, to see the real shape of my body:
I am lonely,
it is true.
I am only
you, and me. Two
ways to knowingly
hold ourselves to
the promises we let
rush past us; we were on the wrong train.
We were waiting
for someone else's,
and then it came:
the lightning, striking dead
every last one of the faultless,
and leaving only the sound and fury to scamper wildly over
a darkling, meandering stain
where our history once stood
proud and tall.
I cannot control the weather,
but whether you control me ---
sometimes fortune favours the bold in rumbling might,
and sometimes
it is really just too close to call.