Downpour

A downpour fell from the sky – like laughter,
Gladdening the roof and the windowsill.
I run barefoot – a sweet sin,
Diving headlong into insomnia.

The world laughs – and I laugh with it,
And the sky – is no more fearsome than the puddles.
The long-forgotten jasmine of the grasses rustles,
And the rain descends upon the grass, indifferent.

Mown grass – a fragrant moment,
Like a ticklish blanket on my knees.
And the wind – the one that always whispers –
Warmed me… in the downpour. Without reason.

I remember: how good it is –
Without doubts, questions, or warnings,
To hide beneath the leaves, like a sign
That the world is still vast and infinite.

But something constricts in my heart now,
As if a farewell were tangled in the laughter.
And the downpour no longer calls beyond the threshold –
It only sounds in the windows, like a sigh.

And I stand – an adult. And mute.
Childhood – will not return, though again
All those sounds are in my memory – in vain,
For the downpours now speak a foreign tongue.

Only the scent of grasses and the wind on my cheek
Remind me: that time – is also a traveler.
And every laugh lost in a corner –
Is a shadow of the soul, saying: “it is not yet too late.”