The fine rain is felt,
like constant tears,
falling on the atmosphere,
whispering distant dreams.
They are glistening pearls
that dance in a sway,
carrying to absent beings
an echo of their too.
Each drop is a memory,
fragrance of the lost,
a song of sincere love,
a shared lament.
On the earth they slide,
like verses on paper,
they caress the laughter,
and extinguish yesterday's fire.
The fine rain embraces us
with its crystal mantle,
and in its gentle scales
balances good and evil.