A rushed rain and disheveled grass
Cranes memories scream
Afternoon declines on a wing
Someone breaks the mirror in us

An ill century incite
At dawn to jump as the horse thieves
To put the fire to dynamite
And run out like night foxes

On the high street leading to
Black windows, locked to a sign
A dignified air sprinkle on things
As a final seal for

One hundred crows sit on gates
The whole city is just a tunnel
And only a sexton get out of it,
All others behind, are dead

(translated from romanian)

ion untaru

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-rushed-rain/