How time differs from the rain
How it it is loud but feathered mute
As though a windmill churns your insides
As rain water inside it leaks
As a kiss can happen in the rain
Alas; but not in time
Is time so different from real life?
And in this that so place of feelings
Where we're all deafened by such noises
Which poisons us of our very brain
In reality
In this that so place of feelings
This is that where there is nothing
But mere fantasy
Which each of us has to wait for
Which waiting reduces us to time
Which is so seldom different form the rain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem