Looks like, as though the rain machine is hanging right upon the sky
somewhere between the sun and the earth hangs
though you see no strings or harnesses, now the sun shuts dim like closing eyes
and now cranks, that machine
and cranks and cranks
first, out with its few drops,
and the drops become dense and thick
dense and thick, stranded and pulled
but this time i presume the rain is sure to come
sure enough, started the machine
may it rains through the evening, may it rains through the night
this's how the machine of misty chaos works.
Like birds, we went home bended and humbled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem