There is something in the scent
of wet earth in June
when the rain first falls,
something awakens.
I long to dig my toes into the clay
run barefoot and play
splash and soak
until I am like a clay statue.
I remember long green fields,
bright green stocks of paddy,
coconuts drying in the sun,
a crooked stream of water.. somewhere.
The guava trees with peeling skin,
resemble coiled pythons,
but I climb on them without fear,
eyeing the ripest fruit.
There is nothing like a monsoon
that i have ever seen
in my travels anywhere
a beauty captured only in an indradhanus.
But this is not real.
Just a memory,
and an exaggerated one,
That vanished long ago.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice poem, Kyrgiakos. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks