I want to write words to the music of the rain,
to rhyme the gusts of wind,
to find the melody of the wafts of breeze,
which autumn sometimes in the wood lynches,
and read aloud the running brooks refrain,
paint in the sky all what leaves may utter,
I want to mould life’s movement and its flutter,
the way wind moulded me on its way,
to understand all this I couldn’t till this day,
after so many words so many tears,
still in your soul unclear to me appears,
your soul which retains me in its hold,
though I want to break free and question,
like this broad sky wind and rain,
these winding pathways which since long ago,
seem leading me to you as if by chance,
to you whose speech I know yet don’t,
you whose love I yearned but never got,
you whose trust I bequeathed yet had never earned.