That rainy night!
Very rare are poets
Without ‘Rain' in poems
(In a day, at midnight
Drizzle, soft or wild
On the roads or window
Roof, ceiling, or in hut)
They did and I do now;
Mine is not like Golchin's
Flashback of childhood in London
But both are solitude,
Mine is of Muslim-Jew friendship.
Open eyes "We are both human and can love."
The root of my poem is in the Coroico and Yungas.
I was set to visit the Chairo and climb EL CHORO
David, I, stayed in same hotel
Our brains and our eyes curious and open;
He asked me: "Who are you and why in Coroico? "
"Study the Incas, " I replied.
Then told him when and how.
"Can I join? " he questioned.
I allowed; new door was opened.
I found him nationalist
Israelite and Jewish,
And he was open and great guy.
Much is there to be said
But rain part is the best.
From base to the tops
I acted as Inca; he had tent
I carried nothing but a cloth.
Rain attacked at midnight
What would do the Incas?
Would be soaked, so would I
But he cared: "Won't let you…"
Was all wet in the rain to seal me
Did not go to his tent until I? ? ?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem