Rain
The rain's pounding away
at the rusty eaves.
Twirling, sliding bubbling foam -
well, that's rain.
You too, and I should walk now
as free as that
on cloud, on air, the meadow
and the vapor roads.
Move around up there and below
like this liquid thing,
flowing into human life on rooftops
and on shoes.
(trans. by J. Kessler, from C. Milosz,
A Book of Luminous Things)