The Rain

The Rain

Come to me, O tenth Muse,
mortal and illegitimate daughter of Zeus.
Sit by my side and admire the rain,
as once did the Poet Vate,
accompanied by his Hermione.

It falls in the silence of darkness,
on this night,
while the birds slumber,
harmonious and gentle,
with an irregular beat
before the thud on the cold, fertile earth.

The echo of its touch on the rooftops,
its downpour,
is a melody that enfolds,
resounds,
marks the time,
like an endless echo.

The gray sky, the darkness,
light up with every breath
of my bodily vice,
which illuminates your fair face
and your eyes,
mirrors of a beauty beyond time, Nana’.

Motionless, we remain listening
to this sweet and sorrowful symphony,
this masterpiece of nature,
falling to nourish the earth,
as you nourish my wandering soul, Nana’.

The rain wets us, feeds us,
brushes our skin
with its humid warmth,
like our sinful love,
like the intertwining of our hands,
deep roots in the earth.

O my sweet secret,
O my sweet tale,
this miracle is for you, Nana’.