it is that point
where the rain is about to fall
like a woman
blushing
when the clouds turn gray
and heavy
when it is about to burst
and yet it still
waits for the first
dropp to fall
it is that point when people
are not running yet
for shelter
at that point i am at ease
sitting on a bench
waiting for the
pandemonium of steps
and hands covering heads
and women losing
their grace and men showing
their rage
and people scattering
like ants
that you spray with
insecticide
it is that point when people
begin to
protect themselves
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem