Raindrops

Raindrops falling from the sky,
Are split apart in death,
They always shatter on the ground
Yet they go up and fall again.

A raindrop is a raindrop,
Multiplied by two.
Do you think those raindrops,
Are in love, both one and two?

How sad and brief is love's embrace,
How sudden is their parting.
And fitting for their state and life,
In the end, they burst into tears.

How many raindrops do you see?
How many can you count?
How many of those can you catch and keep,
Within an outstretched palm?

How simple is the raindrop's life!
It simply has to fall.
How pitiful its simplicity!
For it must always fall.

Some say a raindrop is a tear,
Shed by an aging sky.
Some say a raindrop is a token,
Of a cloud's silent good-bye.

But still some say that rain is just
A symptom. Nothing more.
Of clouds that find the air too cold,
And so precipitate to the floor.

They fall to the ground and scatter,
They are swayed easily by the wind,
They may glint a bit, slightly in the sun,
But really, what does it matter?

A raindrop can be angry, strong,
A raindrop can be joyful.
A raindrop can be soft and sad,
Invisible, as glass.

A raindrop must fall to the ground,
For there it must finally perish.
It's fate is doom, it's life must end,
And yet, what does it do?

It glitters in the sun with joy,
It clings lovingly to its friends,
It is noisy when it feels the need,
It is quiet when it doesn't.

It lives its life without control,
But not with lifeless silence.
So if raindrops don't have poetry,
Then my friend, neither do we.