The clouds are the waves of the sky
In tempo their movement is stressless
Without effort the wind is silent music
Creating a dance that we watch from below.
… and the climax
The dark enchanted rich denseness
Is building
Its passive intrusion on the bright day
Slowly begins to peek
… and the climax
Closer even still
Silent music begins the discourse
Of its somber enterprise
And the air has taken beneath its flesh
A thickness in taste
In texture.
… and the climax
Rain, sounding like all children in heaven above
With packed palms of rice
Have emptied their handfuls onto the earth
The thunder like folded leather cracked against
Each one of their backs
There is nothing louder than the sky
Screaming with remorse
There is nothing quieter than the pause in between
Strikes of the keys
At the atmosphere
In all
There is nothing similar
To a storm coming to life
Stuck beneath its climax
Veiled below chaos
The awakening light
And finding in the lack of this peace
A tranquility that is fueled by the fight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem