It rains agonic in the Easter's night
and I'm feeling more godless
than Thomas.
Through the walls of my house
the rain makes a way for itself.

The building's ground coat
splits by the acid splashes
and the water flows in me
from the graven sky.

The harsh lightning hews
light from the lights
of some undreamed beliefs.
My nature gets numb,
lost in desires.

And then the thunderblast
makes a shattering noise,
breaking my ear drum,
when I glance at the stove,
lost on the cellar's stairs.

It rains agonic in the celestial night,
but I can feel the damp no more,
mere my muddy and dreary voice
echoes in abyss.