The Sounds of the Rain
The sounds of rain , so near, and so far...
The sounds of rain , so near, and so far...
On the snow capped mountains the ice melts,
the water flows in a silent stream,
and I hear that silence
in the raindrops falling on my window panes.
The rain can hear the silence reigning in my heart.
A slow beat, a plaintive note on a violin string,
stirs as if in the depth of a valley.
A descent from the hills,
the rain has an easy fall.
Down on the friendly slopes
the rain rolls, a child not scared of the fall.
And I am waiting, tremulously, to catch the rain in my arms.
Step by step, sometimes the rain descends
as the massive clouds watch the downhill slopes
until the streams gather and open the floodgates in a drastic wind.
Often in the moonsong, the rain delights.
Like a charmed herd of mountain deer
the rain follows the magic flute,
and like a revelation on an abrupt night
the rain speaks of the mysteries sung to the ears of the maids
waiting for a marriage divine.
The mesmerizing sound of rain
carries the burden of ages of a longing that has remained
pristine, clear like the moonshine of the nights when the longing is a note
of a symphony played out in a solitary forest, a pliant ocean holding aloft
the music falling in an incessant stream.
The rain has memories of ancient dreams...
The anguish in the sounds of the rain.
Sushama Karnik
Thanks @Milan Lakić for the image
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