Voices in the Rain

[Drek]

It's middle of November.
Still not that cold.
I can still fell the warmness of the day.
Extremely unusual weather,
just usual day and night...
Night.
November heavenly weeping,
bed,
in warm blankets and peace.
I tend to await the dream,
I am striving for seven or eight hours freedom,
freedom from worries and white-day weights...
The instant before the dream prevails me,
before the silence to hug me,
lying so,
lying on one ear,
half asleep,
soberly-drunk,
I listen...
Rain,
echo,
hits...
The lids,
the roofs,
the gutters,
disturbingly echo in the night...
Heavenly pearls tearing the night...
Endless drops,
falling,
I follow each and every one of their sound,
I visualize all their trajectories,
awake I dream each and every one of their games.
Voices in the rain,
every heavenly liquid drop,
a voice...
Thousand voices,
endless world sufferers,
transformation,
reflection,
Evening November downpour...
Zealous sorrow,
weeping,
I'm losing my sense,
unknown pain overcomes me,
clear voices,
blurred weights,
sympathizing...
Thoughts for the sufferers,
the homeless,
the vile mutilated...
Common moment,
common suffering,
sharing of the burden...
But,
just for a moment,
all that drama concluded in one moment...
Deep breath,
white sheet,
heavy rain,
gentle dream...
I surrender to the night.