The Day It Rained - Poem by Ali AlMajnooni
It was raining outside.
And the sky that was wide,
So large a part of it was turning navy blue,
Whereas the juicy clouds curtained the golden hue,
And showered those wet trees
That swayed at gentle breeze.
It was raining, but I,
At my chamber, was dry.
Through the steamy windows I saw the sloppy streets,
Where my ears were able to hear the cadent beats
That the hailstones did make,
Never to cease or break.
My senses were mingled,
And my body trembled.
And in the pockets of the coat I vainly wore,
I buried my weary hands, and against the door
A tight umbrella leant,
Useless- a virgin tent.
That afternoon it rained,
Though inside I remained.
Since I feared stepping on the slippery threshold
That was the first step into the external world.
Thus I was made remote
By the courage I sought.
Doors to open to rain,
And wet thresholds to drain
Wanted even a little, meager magnitude
Of simple courage, but it was incertitude
That kept me to my fears.
Now I'm sure after years.
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