Rain bolts down with thunderously laugh,

A girl stood by there, shut her eyes

her breathing rise, fall down with each raindrops,

Voices aroused with silver claws,

Voices of furies, weaves in chorus line—

"You've struck her down to pour glory?"

Each cries, held a secret so strangely

I ran down, my hands shake in vain

Weave, weave, weave, everything flows in haste—

Thousand faces flash and lost in another state,

Trillion voices weave in the dazzle of rain.

I'm the one, who rides in shores and outskirts

I remembered the smile of an old lady, in the sidelines

certain smells alter, in the distance.

A girl rushes after the bus, it leaves with a whistling rush—

With splashes of mud stains, her dress got

covered in musty smells.

I'm going high, floating in a white pool—

in each feet, she's becoming smaller than

every white house, the cold glamours bite back

on my skin, I clamped my mouth in 15000 feet, "Jump!"

I'm spreading out in the aloft of wind,

"Didn't I rise to fall down?

. . .

Following up — part (v) do you think it will be the last part of this series?