ITS RAINS مطرها - Poem by MOHAMMAD SKATI
It rains outside, I am far from its pretty streets, I had its heavy rains while walking alone Near The American Street, Its winter is cold and windy, Rains fall warm and I feel its cold winter, The people are crossing boldly All its streets to get to their stores or To their houses, Sometimes these fallen rains turn into floods Because the skies are open, They tell me about these rains over there, I am far from this pretty city, but I hide its pretty picture in my mind, I have everyone and everything in my mind Including all streets and roads, I love this city and I love all people over there, I used to walk over there by myself or accompanied By my friends roaming from one street to another, Its downtown becomes different while It's raining outside, The stores' owners stand in front of their stores Waiting for customers to come in, People come and go outside, Sometimes I can or anyone can see a pretty rainbow In the pretty horizon, Everything is normal including the loud sounds of Drops of rains falling on the ground, Rain is pretty over there and it's different If compared to other cities, I am always far from my pretty city Which is like my pretty love, then I celebrate its fallen rains from afar.
Comments about ITS RAINS مطرها by MOHAMMAD SKATI
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl