there Ladies and gentlemen, Signores and Signoritas: I'm presenting to you
The Big Stories! Si, si! Signora Ara wrote them under unbelievable
pressure, headaches and such. So be kind and enjoy them, while holding
some tissues, chocolate and of course a bottle of cognac!
of Falling Rain
It's falling down onto wet stones,
and those gently, soft sounds,
are telling to the dreaming flowers
stories about eternal lovers,
whispering, that it is only right
to make love the whole of night.
It's like tears of black sky,
miracle of soothing,
master of merciful lie,
like healing balsam for world's pain.
The virtuosi of rhapsody
-- the rain.
My drops are my fingertips,
touching your eyes, your nose, your parted lips,
then, sliding down, they leave a trace.
I'm the rain, gently kissing your face.
Seeing your beauty, I'm breaking into tears.
I whisper sweet words into your ears,
while holding your body in my arms.
I'm the rain, gently kissing your palms.
My instrument are the streets, you are walking on,
my repertoire contains this only song,
which I'm playing again and anew:
I'm the rain, madly loving you.
Outside of Rain
Grey clouds over the town,
changed the day into the night,
while the rain, still falling down,
is making its sounds - so soft, so light.
Why to go out into the wet streets?
Our world is the room, the bed,
we are lying in,
sprawled across the white sheets
in each others arms,
my skin on your skin.
Being with you, I don't miss the sun.
I'm dwelling in world bereft of pain,
where the only beings are me and you,
listening to the voice of the rain.