I am thinking about the poem you asked me about the rain – it is still trembling on my lips but silent devoid of words. The melodies from the deepest of the heart, through the paining throat disappear unto the noisy drops and I make futile attempts to raise my voice above them all! Alas, music dies within the caves of longing stretching endless towards fulfillment!
Upon the waters I have dived deep to collect the words to compose the song for you, yet they are hidden somewhere amidst the muddy waters. Perhaps in a morning when the clouds are gone, the beams of light would reveal them and I would thread a garland with pearls smiling in sunshine. Let me keep it safe for you until you come someday to hold my hands for another life!
I don’t know where are these waters rushing; to join the streams to form rivers? to flow as rivers, to join the seas and from there right back to clouds to complete a cycle of never ending life? O maddest flow of heavenly shower, take these boats made up of papers upon which I have scribbled the words of love for my beloved; carry with you my dreams to her abode.
It is raining, my dear and I am here at the doorstep from where people have taken your chilled body to the grave amidst the silver trees! The crowd might have departed covering you within the blanket of wet soil upon which it must be raining. Through the path made amidst the scattering drops, let me walk towards you where you enjoy deepest of sleep.
Here is your poem, dear, but tell me where shall I leave it for you? When the distant rain sings far away the melody of pain, shall I sing this for you? And when I am tired of singing, O dear let me rest upon you, embracing those sands upon your remaining! Love will slumber upon the earth, my heart will dance around the air with your remembrance and my eternal self will join with you in heaven, far away in your abode!
It is raining, my dear!
