maybe i met you in the rain
as raindrops on my open lips
and as heavy rain
forcing open
the pores of my skin
maybe i met you as the wind
that swept my skirt up to my face
refusing to get down
with my upturned umbrella
dragging me down to the slopes
leading to the mountain flowers
being sold near Dangwa.
maybe you are the negative ion
from the lightning and the thunder
that snatched my asthma
and purified the mud
that flowed to my feet
maybe you are the evaporation
of my inhibitions
coming back
as rain water
for me to drink again
for my own salvation
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem