(15 April 1999, La Castellana)
The night has enveloped with darkness
The earth which now seems void.
The cool air sways the minute tongue
Of flame emanating from a dying lamp,
Which is apparently the only source
Of light in that sheath of black.
Raindrops came crushing,
And in sheer joy, laughed
As they slid through the roof of the hut.
The frogs joined while the nearby
Brook murmurs of being short of slumber.
The thunder quieted them for a few moments.
For miles around, only one is awake to listen,
Sitting on a chair, with the dying lamp.
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