Monday, January 12, 2009


A drop on my head,
Thousand dreams sprout,
Many are your kids,
And some of my evil memories!

Mother’s lost fragrance,
No grains spread to collect,
No cows to drive home,
No joy of expectation!

This fastening on my rain coat,
This covering, that belt,
Around my neck, head and waist
Stop me from having more drops

No more I sing or dance
The music swallowed by glass
Sons of sin outflow the gutter
The city tree is falling down

Pure drops of blessings
On dirty dust of development
Started to reach the money house
Cursed, “Oh! This sick rain!”

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