Sitting in an empty restaurant;
Everyone has left.
Gazing through an unclear window;
Through the film, I see
An infinite amount of raindrops,
Each with its own past,
Mingling in streams and puddles;
Becoming one.
The simplicity is overwhelming
As I join them outside.
Beckoning from my subconscious
What I've buried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem