Translation of poems...
The Downpour
How I love the rain,
I love how it falls like fresh emotions,
That cleans the skin of the sky,
Leaving it light and clear.
Y oh how I love to dance to the sound of its wet orchestra,
And sway my hips to the sporradic rhythym of the great drum in the sky.
It's thundering sound,
Looses the sadness that I hold inside, from my organs,
And it splashes into the puddles that surround me.
How I love the scent left behind that smells like wet leaves and overturned soil.
When it rains it reminds me that even the earth needs a inward purification that starts with tears that fall from the sky,
Tears that cleans that invisible skin in the sky ,
Falling, refreshing the skin off the backs of children lying in ashes with their parents with outstreched hands towards the sky,
Waiting from their firey arms to be extinguished.
In moments like these I feel that grounding terrestrial connection and I feel safe.
Untiltled....
I see him walking in his usual careful way,
Fast,and calculated yet determined,
And his stance is open as if his rib cage was opened fully like a wind busting through shutters,
Exposing his vulnerable organs only to those that can capture his reserved glance.
He looks into the eyes of children as equals and give his heart to them without any hesitation,
And when he smiles, his eyes shine with a light of innocent and you can see the reflection of the little boy that he nurtures insides.
His voice is soft and mild,
And he chooses his words carefully.
And when he in engaged in conversation with someone his gives them his full attention as if no one else exists in the moment you open you mouth to speak to him.
His steps are quiet, you would never hear him coming but for those that search him out,
They already know that those quiet steps leaves deeps footprints on the hearts of those that find themselves in his pathway.
How I love the rain,
I love how it falls like fresh emotions,
That cleans the skin of the sky,
Leaving it light and clear.
Y oh how I love to dance to the sound of its wet orchestra,
And sway my hips to the sporradic rhythym of the great drum in the sky.
It's thundering sound,
Looses the sadness that I hold inside, from my organs,
And it splashes into the puddles that surround me.
How I love the scent left behind that smells like wet leaves and overturned soil.
When it rains it reminds me that even the earth needs a inward purification that starts with tears that fall from the sky,
Tears that cleans that invisible skin in the sky ,
Falling, refreshing the skin off the backs of children lying in ashes with their parents with outstreched hands towards the sky,
Waiting from their firey arms to be extinguished.
In moments like these I feel that grounding terrestrial connection and I feel safe.
Untiltled....
I see him walking in his usual careful way,
Fast,and calculated yet determined,
And his stance is open as if his rib cage was opened fully like a wind busting through shutters,
Exposing his vulnerable organs only to those that can capture his reserved glance.
He looks into the eyes of children as equals and give his heart to them without any hesitation,
And when he smiles, his eyes shine with a light of innocent and you can see the reflection of the little boy that he nurtures insides.
His voice is soft and mild,
And he chooses his words carefully.
And when he in engaged in conversation with someone his gives them his full attention as if no one else exists in the moment you open you mouth to speak to him.
His steps are quiet, you would never hear him coming but for those that search him out,
They already know that those quiet steps leaves deeps footprints on the hearts of those that find themselves in his pathway.