(...) It's raining on our faces
sylvan,
raining on our hands
naked, on our clothes
frivolous,
on the fresh thoughts that the soul opens
News , on the lovely fable
m'illuse yesterday, today t'illude,
or Hermione.
(Gabriele D'Annunzio)
Rain .. rain .. rain .. but I'm not nn D'Annunzio and the rain is so poetic to me .. maybe it was. Like when I go to sleep at night under the duvet, and I hear pounding on the roof. For a moment I seem to be in a place far away, secluded in a cabin in the countryside, in the heat. A moment of escapism. My thoughts travel, my body remains motionless.
But then you come back to reality. These drops falling, thick and light, I turn away from what I do. I miss her. I miss him too. I miss that feeling ...
A beautiful dance of the sun? :)
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