Answer:
I always follow my brother but you cannot see me, only him. You cannot hear him but you can hear me. What are we?
What is the thing which, once poured out, cannot be gathered again?
Pregnant every time you see her, yet she never will give birth.
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
Only two backbones and thousands of ribs.
I march before armies a thousand salute me. My fall can bring victory but no one would shoot me. The wind is my lover one-legged am I. Name me and see me at home in the sky.