Tuesday 3 July 2007


"Si me dijeran pide un deseo,
preferiría un rabo de nube,
un torbellino en el suelo
y una gran ira que sube.
Un barredor de tristezas,
un aguacero en venganza
que cuando escampe parezca
nuestra esperanza."
Rabo de Nube
Silvio Rodriguez Dominguez
Rain, little leprechaun, that used to fall onto my head when I was rolling home on my way from school on a quiet night in years gone by. Incessant, continuous, calm and soothing rain. Or maybe in the early hours of the morning as I brazenly supped 'vino espumoso' on the bus. Rain, you hotwired me and used to take me everywhere you wanted me to go. Remember, back in the old days when the first rainfall in May signified good luck for the rest of the year? Not colds or catarrhs for you, we were made of sterner stuff back then. Rain, my favourite type was the simple one, made of small-town materials. Just a drizzle first, enough to keep you in, but you braved through it, you wanted to get to your mate's, you had a concert to go to. This rain didn't shower you, it bathed you. It spreadeagled across the sky inviting you to tilt your head up and allow it to hug you. You walked with that rain-gait so typical of yours, you know, skipping over puddles, holding the hem of your trousers, until you didn't care anymore. By now, it was pouring down and you let the rain overpower you, it was futile to resist. And then at night the same rain billowed through your dreams and from the cool night breeze to the gust of wind, you knew you were alive.
Copyright 2007

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