literature

The monologue of the rain

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Literature Text

Days of the sun pass the autumn time slowly,

Leisure of clouds for the nature is holy.

So then people will not be able to know:

The sun’s gonna shine, or my wind’s gonna blow.

Either the fog’s gonna cover the ground,

Either my sisters, without any sound,

Are going to cover the sky, or the sun

Is going to rise, so the life’s gonna come.

I won’t let this star be in the grey sky prime,

Autumn and spring – that is my own work time.

Since origin of the world it had not been

Till planet was covered by blanket of sin.

 

My job returns in the start of the season.

Sisters, who’re covering sky, think of reason.

They’re darker and darker, who’re after the whites,

And look like the fastest, the gloomiest knights.

Hundreds of sisters and two only brothers,

Sound of the stormy cantata then gathers.

The oldest my sister is making a charm -

The lightning is falling without any harm.

Feel: I am lifted above all the cloudies,

Lightning is followed by me. I’m rowdy,

When I become shattered. And my little kids

Are called by the ground of the planet. It leads.

 

Pleasantly… Children are beating the foliage

Of giant trees. The bigger is knowledge

For clouds. They like view of golden leaves’ rain.

My children do not feel their tree brothers’ pain.

Land is being covered with plaid of the waters.

Streams moving down towards roads, like the stalkers.

The pleasure is mine. But what is that, above?

What’s giving its light to the sky like small dove?

Star! That’s the sun who wants break through the clouds.

Light wishes about making way through dark crowds,

The heaviest air and the earth’s tiring mark

Are covered at present with twilight like dark.

 

Term of my work’s coming up to the ending.

Later will be quite another time spending.

The finish for sleeping of nature’s not far.

“My family, open the way for the star!”

Road is uncovered for sky luminary,

Light of the sun gives the life without hurry.

It’s also gives warmth at the natural shrine

And plays luminescence in clear streams of mine.

Just a rain. Autumn rain. What are his thoughts like? What can he see? What can he feel? What does he live for?


The poetic remake of my old work for the Russian Language school contest's.
© 2015 - 2024 HopeSquirr
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