Rain slips into the nursery like a soft spring shower over the terracotta tiles of an Umbrian hill town—refreshing, unassuming, and quietly spectacular. Linguistically, it’s the English word for the life-giving downpour, rooted in Old English “regn,” yet its passport is well-stamped: in Estonia it echoes the masculine form of Raymond, while in modern Italy it’s greeted with a knowing smile as una parola d’acqua, pure and universal. Parents drawn to Rain often speak of cleansing new chapters, green shoots after tempests, and the gentle percussion of possibility; meteorologists might talk millibars, but they simply feel hope. Its steady, modest appearance on U.S. charts since the Swinging Sixties shows a name that, like a seasoned barista, never rushes but always arrives on time, serving freshness in every cup. Whether cradled by a daughter or son, Rain carries the promise that, after the clouds, the world will glisten a little brighter.
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