Dear you,

Nope.
It’s not the rain that you hate
But the memories that come crashing down
When the little drops meet the ground.
Those days you couldn’t replay,
Like a photo you could look back to,
But could never live on anymore.
The thought of a place you couldn’t be in,
As the tiny crystals shine in delight through your window pane.
It’s the song you used to sing,
But now you hate to hear
As the raindrops fall to the roof,
With the perfect melody
That hums as your heart beats.

Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate,
But the emptiness you feel,
For things you could’ve
or could’ve not done.
Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate.
You love the sound it creates,
Like a lullaby on sleepless nights.
You love how it make its way down
On your glass window
As you trace them with your fingertips.
You love how each drop feels
Against your skin
Against your palm,
Against your face
Welcoming every tear.
Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate,
But the things
that made you think you hate it.
So dear,
See how beautiful the rain is.
It does remind you of pain,
But mirth always comes with it.

With a drop of my own rain,
Vier.

ULAN (Rain)

I wrote this last year.
This is a poem about the rain, and I don’t know when I’d get time to translate it in English. It’s my first time to write a rain poem in Filipino, and I’m not sure if I did it well. Lol. So here it is.
..
Ulan, ulan.
saan ka nga ba nagmula?
talaga bang dala ka ng mga ulap?
o taglay ng kalangitang walang sinumang makahanap?

Tubig ka nga bang nagmula lang din sa dagat at lupa,
o luha ng malungkot na  Bathala?
sa sanlibutan ba dala mo’y sumpa?
o biyayang kaloob ng langit na dapat ikatuwa?

Ulan, ulan.
Ikaw ba’y may simula at katapusan?
Darating ba ang araw,
Na ika’y hindi na masisilayan?
Titila ka na lang ba isang araw,
At hindi na muling pang dadalaw?

Ulan, ulan.
Bakit nga ba ika’y kanilang sinisisi?
Tuwing ang kanilang buhay ay puno ng lungkot at hikbi?
Hindi ba nila makita na ika’y isang himala?
Na katulad ng sumisikat na araw, ikaw ri’y tinitingala.

Ulan, ulan.
Hayaan mong ang buong mundo’y magluksa.
Ang bawat butil ay katumbas ng kanilang luha.
At sa iyong pagdating, asahan mong mayroong isang nilalang,
Na magpipinta ng isang ngiting walang kasingtamis;
sa gitna ng milyon-milyong pagtatangis.
..