73. Rain
A melancholy drizzle
fills our hearts with dampness
after wholesome shower outbreaks,
like your cloudburst of despair
the other day, which rent my heart in twain.
I will not ever hurt you, only soothe you,
comfort you and love you,
wallowing in the magnificence and generosity
of your dynamic heart and soul,
the richness of which speaks out clearly
in the lovely abundance of your hair.
Let me with my decrepit life
hide out and drown in that deluvion,
glorifying in your beauty's cornucopia,
worshipping and senselessly extolling
in the jubilant unification of our souls
in boundless and ecstatic love
that spites the oceans in its overflow.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 819 times
Written on 2006-08-27 at 12:57
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