I was breaking the curtain
Of rain and the month of July
Thru the chest of High Way.
The drops of the rain was
Falling one by one from the
Cloud of my bygone days.
The gusty wind hugged me,
Drawing to the farthest past.
Because, no rain now can
Wet me like the first one!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem