Dejectedly, I watch
The rain
Hoping it will take away
The trials and the pain
Knowing that it probably won’t
I watch it fall
Hoping
That he will call
Drip, drop, drip
I hear its chatter
As it seems to ask,
“What’s the matter? ”
I respond with a shake
Of my head
Knowing that
He’s probably dead
The rain falls
And he never calls
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem