Tag: rain

  • Eleventh Of The Twelve

    Eleventh Of The Twelve

    Welcome, November,
    entered on tiptoe.
    Mirthless whisperer
    of bygone summer’s woe.

    Misunderstood month,
    despised by the most.
    Yet you offer comfort
    to the scared and lost.

    A thick fog is cast,
    veiling all of our pains.
    Cleansing rain of past
    sins keenly hailed again.

    When the first ice comes,
    congealing men’s ardours,
    a truce gently calms
    many turbulent sorrows.

    Bright colours are muted,
    ceased offending the eyes
    too delicate to bear
    the arrogance of light.

    The little blade of grass
    peeping out of frozen mud
    is as weak against the gusts
    as me at the idea of God.
  • A Day Of Rain

    A Day Of Rain

    Day of gentle rain,
    you’re welcome again.

    The ear is pleased
    by nature’s gig.
    The nose is even more
    charmed by petrichor.

    And, oh, the eyes,
    caught by surprise,
    by grass and leaves,
    bejewelled with beads.

    Trees glance in puddles,
    pliant, tall and supple,
    grateful for mirrors,
    watery reflections.

    Listen.

    Heard thunders rumbling?
    Perhaps they’re clapping.
  • La Pioggia Nella Città / Rain In The City

    La Pioggia Nella Città / Rain In The City

    Italiano (English below):

    Oggi piove.
    Non sulle soglie del bosco
    ma su un mare di asfalto;
    non sulle tamerici
    ma dentro ai tombini.
    Niente ginepri né mirti,
    soltanto muri e palazzi,
    che, da gran prepotenti,
    occludono gli orizzonti.

    Non piove sui pini
    bensì sui lampioni,
    dritti righelli
    con cui il vento traccia
    gocciolanti trattini.
    Piove sui nostri volti,
    che però non son silvani,
    ma, offuscati dal pallore,
    e illuminati dal grigiume.

    Apriamo tutti l’ombrello
    se no ci sciogliamo.
    Chiusi nelle autovetture,
    immersi in tutt’altro
    che freschi pensieri;
    fortemente sperando
    che le ore seguenti
    fossero ormai già
    un affare di ieri.
        
    English:

    Today it is raining.
    Not at the edge of the woods,
    but over a sea of asphalt;
    not on the tamarisks,
    but into the city drains.
    No junipers, nor myrtles,
    only walls and buildings,
    that, arrogantly,
    obstruct the horizons.

    It does not rain on pines trees,
    but on lampposts instead,
    upright rulers
    with which the wind sketches
    dripping dashes.
    It does rain on our faces,
    which, however, are not sylvan,
    but, blurred in pallor,
    and lit by grayness.

    We all open umbrellas,
    or we melt away.
    Sealed in our cars,
    immersed in all
    but fresh thoughts;
    fervently hoping
    that the hours ahead
    were already now
    a matter of yesterday.