Some stars die at night

drop scintillating tears

of momentary light

through millions of years.

the supersonic flight

of shooting stars ends

in a sudden streak of sight-

a matter of seconds.

"Peace on earth" I wish in the death

of stars. Too late, my words,

futile, fly away like a breath

of emigratoty birds.

EE Tiang Hong, 'stars'

We walked the streets

feeling the damp, gusty showers

beating our bare heads

too engulfed in our own tenderness

to notice the night or its

darkness

I cannot remember

if it was the cold

your touch

or my very own need for you

that made us cling

All I saw was

my relection of you

reflecting me

in the reflection of your

eyes...

Chung Yee Chong, 'Reflection'

The night rain came

as soft as low piano notes

tingling the grass leaves

along their veins

wriggling down the drying roots.

The rains always wake up

some essential lonliness

that lurks under the silence.

Drops fall between memories

and cool them to life,

catch experiences

that recede into forgetfulness.

And you are with your past

in the rain of the night.

The water curtain is transparent,

cooler than the flood of the present;

bits of water

merge into one another,

a mirror to reflect

a lost self.

Night's darkness is drenched

and you are wet with yourself

a moment of understanding,

a lucidity of knowledge,

water in yourself-

in the rain of the night.

Here and now

your hands

feel the new edge of personality.

At the tips of your fingers

are the round brittle drops

breaking in minute splashes

on your finger nails.

You have communicated

with the rain that brought yourself

back from where you were.

Muhammad Haji Salleh, 'Night Rain'