After the rain
What am I to do
after the rain
falls softly on your face
and
the world becomes a quiet place?
After the sunlight … but a little
on your brow,
the rest in a shadow
after the rain.
What will my heart allow?
What will my mouth do?
both tremble…
as an autumn afternoon
trembles after the morning dew.
What will my feet do?
Will my fingers reach for you
or wander hapless in the rain?
I've nowhere to go after this,
after the rain falls softly
on your face,
I've no where to be but your lips.
How am I to know
what the hours will do?
I want it all again,
these moments etched in this fire
that burns inside.
Let it not be put out,
the afterglow,
let it never end—
but be a rose covered lane
After the rain.
R. Harney
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem