i stop after a
morning walk
it is raining and
i take shelter
in the gym of
the old university
i sit on the bench
and watch the rain
and the farm
fog creeps in
and the panoramic
view looks like
a wet chinese
brush painting
the colors
begin to blot
down the frame
i write it here that
i did not cry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem