There is a scent of rain.
It’s the scent of earth
Having drunk its fill of the evening rain,
The shy fragrance of wet pollen
And weed-flowers.
(If you have a nose for such things)
Perceive the flirtatiousness of rain
How the scent of soaked earth
Flirts with the fragrance of wet flowers
Calling in fragrant songs;
Come ye lovely flowers
Come and bury your seed.
Come in your wetness
Come hide your seed in me.
Come
Let me wrap your seed in the warmth of my womb.
Come earthling (you with the tiny waist)
Let me hide my seed in you.
Its raining.
– Khorosiv
