one who writes about the rain
true enough on a sunny day makes you shiver
the way he writes makes you feel cold
and as you read further believing in him
the roof of your house begins to leak
rain pours down to the ceiling into your head
and it is not just magical imagination it is
real and you get wet and happy to the idea
that you yourself is crying and your mother who
was dead ten years ago comes back to you
not noticing now that you are drenched
to the liquid of your own tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem