Rains in Chongqin

Rains in  Chongqing

By Sydney Emmanuel©03-December 1982.



Fine rain and fog

Pure mist

Visibility is poor, but I manage to see the cat

On the other side of the street

My Friend, there every night

On that window, looking at me.

The Cat on the windowsill

I, on the windowsill

Both, here every night

I look at the cat, look at the street, look at the rain when it rains.

look at everything that passes on the street.

The Cat every night gentle and loyal, does the same, but more observant

To what is happening  in the gutters, and in the stormwater drains,

And the night mariposas which fly around the street lights.

He lunges at one that flies near. He misses. He doesn’t care.

From time to time he tries to catch a little  mouse which ventures out of the water drains.

Sometimes he’s lucky.

Here I think about the cat: Think and write what I think.

But, what is the cat thinking?

The drizzle keeps falling on the streets of Chongqing.

From time to time a car passes, noisy, breaking the silence,

Breaking the dialogue between the cat and I.

The fog is now more intense on the streets of Chongqing.

Again, something catches  Cat’s attention;

I see nothing

The cat, jumps in pursuit  of his prey.

Suddenly, a car roars  fast  like a devil on this street of Chongqing.

A  sharp and cold bang sounds.

A body lays motionless by the footpath.

I look at my watch.

As fast as it came, the car disappears into the darkness.

Three in the morning

Not a cry, not a groan, not a sound,

The silence returns.

My grey friend did not return to the windowsill.

A slow rohoam,  rohoam approaches.

It is the street sweeper, cleaning and vacuuming all on it’s path.

The silence returns

The solitude

I, alone in the silence on that street of Chongqing.

The cat will never go back to that windowsill on the other side of the street

I will never go back to my windowsill on my side of the street.

Now  every night His Sweet Old Owner will cry on that window.

With no one to share her pain

nor someone to wave to.

I grab my notebook, and go inside

it goes on raining in the streets of Chongqing.