Slashing rain slices the thick monsoon air
Greenery bows their heads in receptive awe
We stand apart and each outwardly stare
The mourning wind whistles an uneven thaw
From the cabana we can only stand and watch
Each of us in a world now created on our own
No new words needed to undo the silent latch
The rain moistens memories, as it did our home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem