It's raining full-throttle, then the pace slacks off
and all the time I can play a game with the rain
that brings me joy; & far-off against the horizon
sunlight escapes into silver translucent clouds
which infuses the grass an inner shine creating
a bright-green light; the crocodile pool becomes
a shimmering topaz against the wet paving
The rain throttled back completely & the colour
in the garden intensifies, my game is going great;
if only I could enact this fantasy like a Jim Carrey
wearing Loki's Mask in the movie, so others could
enjoy the scene with me, but explaining the game
would sound too much like self-aggrandizement
while it's merely inserting a fairy-tale narrative -
Which inspires all dreams - into reality's scene,
delightful as the rain languorously winds down
and comes to a sinuous stop for only a moment
before setting off again - and I have no objection
against the same wonderful dream repeating it-
self over and over in my head…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem