Raindrops

Raindrops fell

into my heart first

before they touched the ground.

I rejoiced like a little child,

longing to run out

and dance within them.

Then, for a moment,

I remembered

that I am a grown woman—

yet with the heart of a child.

…

My steps stumbled in the rain,

I ran,

I played,

I toyed with the leaves.

I held my umbrella

and hurried on,

my dress soaking despite my care.

Along the same road,

from childhood to adulthood,

I learned not to rejoice too much,

to shelter beneath the cloak of fate.

To heed the echo of my steps,

perhaps I may avoid

the hidden traps of danger,

lest I find sparks of harm

playing carelessly

with human souls.

On the path of rain,

I planted flowers along the roads,

caressed the cheeks of children,

and threw stones

to stir the waves of the sea.

The sea could not restrain me

from my joy in the rain.

Waters are not the same,

even if they do not transgress.

Each holds its own nature,

its own life and hope.

And each of us has our own water,

our own life,

and destinies—

like the rain.