In drizzle
Sky is large stage,
With clouds in ballet.
I am the audience
Inside this theatre
At seat's edge.
The breeze is chilly
Drizzle keeps coming…
Overjoyed, I stop,
Asylum in corner.
See people passing by,
Look at me, whisper, talk:
"He must be crazy…"
Have fun with raindrops
And falling gold, brown
Leaves, leaving with a: "bye"
To branch, bough, trunk.
Like me, they, are homeless,
That makes them prosperous.
No collections, no debts,
Free to sit and rest.
Like me, they are in search,
Of loving, avoid hate.
Their bodies, powerless
In the wind are helpless.
Unlike the cheaters, we
Keep hanging, flying
In fullest honesty,
No fear of hardship.
Why to lie, pretend,
Like a roadside beggar?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great new style of writing for you, Nassy. I like it. This poem has jarred some beautiful memories. In my mind's eye, I see Wadia dancing in the rain. Thank you so much for that memory. By the way, I really love your old style as well!