The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
Water dripping from air coolers,
A small puddle without rain.
The sweeper gathering plastic bottles,
Movement without wind.
The world is a lonely place.
People step on puddles,
Breaking the reflection of neon lights;
Some set to blink,
Others blinking to die.
The world is a lonely place.
A man sits at a table alone,
Looking at the pouring rain,
Pouring whisky into himself.
A woman sits at a table alone,
Looking at the man,
Pouring whisky into herself.
But the man
Was still looking at the rain.
There was something in the quietness,
Something that gave joy
For no reason;
Something that clears the mind
For no reason.
The man
Still looks at the rain.
Water dripping,
Water jumping to the table
Through the gap in the window.
The world is a lonely place.
But it is lonely for a reason.
It is lonely
To make us happy in being alone.
It is lonely
To give us time to socialize
With our soul,
With the water dripping from the coolers,
With the rain.
The world is a lonely place
For a reason.
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