It rains on the street,
Like a god weeping slow
Tears on the hapless
People below.
Why is he weeping?
Strange no one knows;
Strange life goes on
In reverse, to and fro.
The tears falling silent
On the grey stone,
Tears that nobody,
But no one, will own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your melodic metaphors dropp perfectly into place, giving hint to a melancholic depth of mystery. Love this poem.