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Poetry

Oh rain

 

Foad Besharat
January 16, 2006
iranian.com

Oh Rain, enough slapping my face

This face is old

Your hands are cold

I didn't forget,

When we first met

You told a tale that was somber,

Now, here I am with my number

Perhaps it was the time that was creeping

Giving sensations when I was weeping

Down here sweating blood in the galleys

Sending me for oars through the valleys

Afraid of your drops filling the ocean

Setting my drowning gently in motion 

I kicked the doors to run away

Where ever I turned your cloud's sway

Turning me back with a bleeding heart

Savvy tormentor, is this your art?

Perhaps one day when I am not

Far away from this evil rot

I'll find you midst your thundering shout

Will you then tell me, what life is about?

-- 12/10/2005

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