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Loud Rain

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…
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We want to belong

 We are like glass bottles;

Breaking apart if dropped,

Yet coming out of fire with just black lines.

We don’t care about fame.

We just want to belong

On a table,

In someone's hand,

In the fire.

We don’t want to be dropped;

That’s all.

The black lines are okay,

You were part of the fire while it lasted.

A bullet to the chest is okay,

You were part of the gang while it lasted.

The tears are okay,

She was yours while it lasted.

We want to be alone and yet belong somewhere,

Like the empty cup on a crowded table

Which once had coffee and steam.

We want to be alone and yet belong somewhere,

Like the pendulum swinging

Alone inside a tall clock

Never opened to be adjusted in the winter.

We want to be alone and yet belong somewhere,

Like the butterfly on morning grass,

Like the glass bottle in the fire,

Coming out with black lines.


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