Like the cycle of waves,
People come and people go.
We met. We laughed.
Then we're good to go.
We part.

We're dancing in a circle.
Circle round and around and around
till the day we die,
alone,
as the way we came to this world.

She hates rainy day.
The cold and the damp have the power of making her gloomy.
“What gloom,”
she tries to brighten her mood by mimicking Sal Paradise, “Aye, what gloom.”
And then she becomes really down.

She doesn’t know why rainy days have this kind of effect on her.
Maybe it’s the cold; maybe it’s the damp; maybe it’s the sounds of raindrops on rooftops and umbrellas.
Or maybe, just maybe, the sight of rain falling and pouring reminds her of tears…
“It’s as if the sky is weeping.”

Then she weeps also.

She tries to ignore, to suppress, to **** the longing in her heart.
She longs for the sun, for the warmth and the light.
But the rain just keeps on falling, and she knows that she can’t do anything about it.
Aye, what gloom; what gloom.

She hates rainy day.

Stars, cease your light.
Hide your brightness,
From my suffering eyes.
Burning delirium,
Savoring bittersweet delight,
I said onto myself that
This is no delusion,
But daydreaming
Of the whispering ghosts
In my mind,
Of all the shadows moving
Across the sky, and
Of my waning pride.