..............................
just rain approached the porch, without bertelegram,let alone whisper to a mango tree in the corner of the yard, which
leaves often tells the story of wanderer who every day
white horse, bearing sekatong water, down a small lane
front of the house, knocking on every door, over and over again, even though he knew
houses there has long lost its occupants, since
silent rain and never want berkabar
just rain approached the porch, filling the water bag
in the back of my white horse, and led me down a small street,
back knocking on doors, while continuing to silence, no
care of mango leaves began to shiver
