Sunday, 17 April 2016

A Bucket Full of Rain

I collapse into the arms of rain,
As it descends from mysterious heaven,
A flowing respite from the summer’s pain,  
Making music -rhythmic and even.

I think of the could-be-muse,
Writing poems of autumn rainbows,
But they are of no use,
Even if they are about rain that flows.
No one cares for my poem, my diadem,
Unless they are written for them.

If you love the rain as you say you do,
Why do you have an umbrella open?
Drop it! Let it flow! Like a music true,
Till it fills up all that was stolen,
And then let down a bucket,
And bring up a poem.

" The poetry books are out of print, but that is as it should be if you're an Indian poet writing in English ."-Jeet Thayil in the preface of 'Collected poems'. 
Poetry is prayer for the godless people - Jeet Thayil 

It's exactly as Dylan says.
The rain is a metaphor for many things , and vulnerability is one of them.