Sleeping lighly in this darkness
Wet skies outside in a darkened world,
I longed for these noises for years.
Rain rare in a once dry land,
Nature sings along while I sleep
Lulling me to new goings on deep.
T'is not the pace I should join
But the truth of the music
For such drips are rarely heard
For the joy of life they bring,
To a land where drought rules yearly,
Kicking all that goes into barenness.
There is the dance of timely steps
This sound of clock ticks and raindrops
I listen and turn to hear heaven'door
Showers lazily turning into drips
Roosters saying the dawn will come soon
No moon hearing the talk
Z
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To hear the door of heaven in the dripping of rain...what a beautiful thought, a moment of wonderful communion. We realize how tied in we are with the Mother Nature when living things are getting what we need. An unexpected pleasure sneaks up on a SENTINEL who once watched for rain (to use a word from your earlier poem) .