Mother rain

Rain, unveil for us the veil of the night,
the hidden face of the deepest mysteries.
In every drop the thirst of the earth thrives,
divine surge to bear fruit.

In muttering these words,
I dare not touch its diaphanous fountain;
I just feel compelled, so to speak,
during the duration of her maternal donation,
to distort the light on your serene face.

Gaze of the gods under full moon,
where do sunflowers orbit
cultivated in the temple of the night?

The chlorophyll of our loves is
the sap alive in the vigor of the fruit,
a sweet kiss of gentle poison.

The moon pregnant with so much love,
ecstatic by the sun,
sheds copious tears
that rain on our childish souls:
and we fear for serpents and sins,
but where is there to sin?

A liquid sky of viscous blue
sighs for the eternal spirit,
creating around itself a
innocent and tearful aura.

The leaves strayed from the trees,
the damp sea breeze,
the bright song of the birds
herald the spring of our lives.

Soon your flow leads us
to a rush of emotions,
virgin forests where I wash with blood
my wild heart;
and, to the sound of rhythmic beats,
I hear the pulse of a simple light
plunged into a telluric silence.