by Shikiyu
Raindrops fall through the trees,
with a soft whisper—saa, like silk.
Upon the leaf I watch,
a single drop slides down.
As if longing for the Earth,
it falls,
and meets a stone below.
Pichan—
with that small sound, it bursts,
leaving only the trace
of what once was rain.
Again and again,
it falls,
is carried away,
is washed clean—
until sunlight returns.
Through breaks in the clouds,
the light scatters,
and the remains of the rain
sparkle,
then quietly disappear.
In that single drop,
I saw a life.
Born of overflowing energy,
falling through changing scenes—
each downward view
a fleeting way of living.
And at last,
I burst.
Strongly—
each fragment of me
filled with what I felt.
And I will fade, someday.
The light that follows
will shine upon me.
And I wish—
to end that way,
beautifully.
There’s something about the sound of rain that quiets the soul.
Nov 2, 2025
Nov 2, 2025 at 2:08 AM UTC
by Shikiyu
Raindrops fall through the trees,
with a soft whisper—saa, like silk.
Upon the leaf I watch,
a single drop slides down.
As if longing for the Earth,
it falls,
and meets a stone below.
Pichan—
with that small sound, it bursts,
leaving only the trace
of what once was rain.
Again and again,
it falls,
is carried away,
is washed clean—
until sunlight returns.
Through breaks in the clouds,
the light scatters,
and the remains of the rain
sparkle,
then quietly disappear.
In that single drop,
I saw a life.
Born of overflowing energy,
falling through changing scenes—
each downward view
a fleeting way of living.
And at last,
I burst.
Strongly—
each fragment of me
filled with what I felt.
And I will fade, someday.
The light that follows
will shine upon me.
And I wish—
to end that way,
beautifully.
There’s something about the sound of rain that quiets the soul.