I squint,
looking to catch the wan dawn sun
through this -
soft gentle summer;
sweet, sweet, rain.
But, only bright bubble blurs -
rainbow angels...
I pitch forward, kneel,
on ground - strangely dry;
sheltering my face.
The rain runs down,
to bead on nose and moisten lips.
It tastes salty...
I don't know why.
I blink -
the angels dance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem