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I remember the rain, as the smallest hot shiver,
That to verses has adhered me you will never leave.
I remember the rain, as wide waves of the wing,
As a footpath from drops which has led me up.
Rain of parting a deserted flat distance.
Distance of a picture and inside only melancholy and grief.
Shower of childhood my weakness and strenth are in it.
I run home with love through jets of rain to my mum.
There were many rains. Rains of parting. And rains of love.
They pressed together. Thickness, a line, a whirlwind.
They became a rain-madness that all days has contained.
They became a downpour that has spilled in my darling. (с) Leonid Shimko Source: http://moy-bereg.ru/poeziya/nad-budnyami.html |