Again The Rain Poem by Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai

Again the rain reminds the pain
Passing hour has my past slain

Each dropbecomes my eyes' tear
Silly become my thoughts seer.

Cool wind winds up warm sighs
From torture-cell soul upflies.

Sorrow is the souvenir of rain
That starts long lost memories' train.

It brings life to dried up shoots
That fills pleasure in plants to roots.

It grants peace to disturbed dust
That otherwise remains burst.

In my heart it arouses dust
The gold of Will begins to rust.

O jolly rain bring some blast of joy
I may enjoy you like a wanton boy.

Illusion-nest be built again
To forget for some time the pain.

I may ride in a careles train
O rain come again, come again!