the rain is getting
shorter
an hour more
a second
breath
and someone somewhere
is speaking
like a fire
speaking
exactly
lightly
clearly
similar to a vale
in which you get down
and yet you are high
or a soil
which you do not decay into
when the rain stops
may I manage
something to put down
before scattering
with the fireflies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem