It's raining, and you're birthday.
Some time ago
the rain you love so wet on my face.
Wet as the forest floor is thickened by deciduous leaves, ice-headed grass,
Or park benches
when the winter sun is momentarily crouched. Melting the frozen time.
Maple leaves sit there accompanying pigeon tai
Accompany me
time flows, so the river
from the frozen grass and frost on the floor of a naked, cold forest, to the sun in ice crystals, to seasons, to bare bits, you learn to celebrate memories.
Memories of rain, green and sun.
About life that is not simple, without many choices in the village of two-season: drought and rain; windy two: barra 'and timmorro'.
grouse and ducks swimming in canals and old rivers, rocking his tail reveals me
memory shout. stroking the back of the veteran street, various bonto in bulukumba and jeneponto,
where life is laughed at and celebrated in the full edge of plastics, garbage and pesticides,
where the courage is drowned in the light of the lamp and the excavations of development
celebrate memories with you,
You fall into a plastic cup
along with a coin of one Euro, memories of a sunfly surrounded by hungry mouth, and mother
You're tucked in piles of layers of clothes
There was no rain, but the storm-
When the plastic cups on the stretcher, the female beggar handed two hands
Under the shadow of Eiffel, pick up coins and dark.
far. far from here some time ago
On the forest floor, the luster of the sun broke off the edge of the grass,
Behind the street veterans, the children swam celebrating the city's exhaust stream
Accompanied by rain, plastic and tai. The color is lively.
you. of course you're sobbing at my shoulder
see the memories and colors of the season
flowing glistening.
