RAINS

it happens like this
the rain
a calm counting of syllables begins
in the pretty clearings of the forest
where the sun plays and mingles
the slow syllables and then
lets out the same old tune

thus begin those immemorial rains
of a complaining voice
that speak of primitive ages
and lull generations
and continue narrating catastrophes
    and glories
    and powerful germinations
cataclysms
        floods
sinkings of towns and races
                of cities
rains that come from the depths of the millenia
with their insidious songs
their germinal word that bewitches and captivates
and their flowing countless bars
that can be prisons
                or harps
                    or lyres

but suddenly
they become smiling and slender
                they dance
they populate the earth with big leaves
                    luxurious
with flowers
and with a slight and tender happiness

with humid words
            salivated words
they talk to us about wonderful countries
and of the rivers that come down from the sky

we forget their dirge
and we love them then because they are docile
and they help us
and they fertilize the wide earth
the black
    and green
        and golden earth