The clouds are gathering
Mon Amor,
The ramparts tottering;
And yet, as I lay, listless,
With only your body to cover me;
I fell into a reverie.
Plop plop, goes the drops,
From the tap afar,
Breaking the silence and stillness
That hung heavy in the air.
A bite, and I jerk back to reality,
A suck, and I am transformed,
The buzz of bee now replaces the drops.
Somewhere out there, amidst the palace and fortress;
People get busy with their daily grind,
Somewhere within the verdant green of forests,
Prevails the call of wild.
Someplace, far away, a lone man walks the path,
Winding amidst the hills and valleys, trudges along the path.
Somewhere near, vast stretches of fields
In water now submerged,
Amidst the birds who chirp and fly,
The children play in mud.
A deep thrust, inside me,
And then a single drop,
I could hear the silence break,
Heavily in raindrops.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a good write on the rain. blop blop goes the drops