The Rains

Withered was my soul,

Like this sky dipped in dark.

Among the exuberant chirping of birds,

I tried to find the benign touch of your lips;

Each falling raindrop was a blunt dagger,

Craving to bring storm to the miseries,

Of my life without your presence.

These drops must have quenched the longing of Earth,

Burning for the desire of sky,

But left me in the vicious circle of this life,

Swollen with the grief of our separation.

No matter how calm these little drops are,

I still stand, all parched, in the mid of this wet avalanche.