The rain doesn't remember the rain of yesteryear

The first rain reminds me
Of the rising summer dust.
The rain doesn't remember the rain of yesteryear.
A year is a trained beast with no memories.
Soon you will again wear your harnesses,
Beautiful and embroidered, to hold
Sheer stockings: you
Mare and harnesser in one body.


The white panic of soft flesh
In the panic of a sudden vision
Of ancient saints.
/ The First Rain by Yehuda Amichai

The rain doesn't remember the rain of yesteryear