Wednesday, November 2, 2011

of the rain

cho tôi hớp vội giọt nước nguồn
suối chảy ngược giòng
tôi thêm khát.

i sit and listen
to the night sounds outside, wind and cars,
neon signs flickering their last light,
maybe something breaks,
all the while i wish it would rain.

when it rains,
i know you would be listening,
i would be listening too,
and that is enough.

we met in the rain. i saw you, wet and radiant and happy in the rain. you loved the rain, the way it indiscriminately soaks everything, forcing everything to soften, break down, and open.  the way it just falls from the sky and then disappears into the dark earth, seeps itself into the deepest crack and smallest fissure.  it has no origin, no final destination.  it recycles itself.  it goes wherever it needs to and becomes whatever it can.  it is constantly in motion, arriving, becoming.  that's you.  that's why you loved it. but you loved it especially for the way it hits your face, cool and drenching, the way it runs down your neck and slides on your skin, as if you have been thirsty all your life, body and soul, and only rain can quench this thirst, the way other people feel about their lovers or their children or their God, where there is a great big void and only something great, something singular and great, specific to that individual void, can fit there and make them whole.  rain did that for you.  it was so simple, so easy. when i fell in love with you, i fell in love with the rain too.  sometimes i wanted to be you, to feel the ecstasy that you feel when it rains.  sometimes, i wanted to be the rain, to fall on you and soak myself through your skin, to open your pores on your body with my body, and seep myself through all the layers of you.  but maybe it is best, just to watch you love the rain.


  1. Octavio Paz có bài này cũng lạ:

    More than air
    More than water
    More than lips
    Light light

    Your body is the trace of your body


  2. sẽ tìm bài của OP để đọc, thanks!