Darken drops on the rainy road,
No one is walking in warriorhood-
People are pacific, peaceful.
Dreaded dots dull on the dresses,
Vicious wetness dresses the wadded jackets-
Probably, everybody stirs one’s stump.
The one out of danger is me, the dull,
Against weather I need no warranty at all,
But how about the tempest in my breast?