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…
The creeper that climbs highest
Has done so
Only because it has lived a long life.
It grows fruits that feed people,
And flowers that feed birds.
And it is given all the love
Because it can give out so much.
Old people are respected
Because they are old,
Not because they deserve it.
They might have given
Fruits to people,
Flowers to birds,
Their smell to houses.
But it is not because of their hard work,
Just like the creeper
That never had to work hard
To bear fruits.
It comes
When it comes,
And people feed off it.
It is not given;
It is taken.
The old
Do not give out love,
It is taken;
Stolen
To empty their heart
Which already lacks so much.
They lack
Because they've given out
In their youth.
They've given out
When they could give.
So they don’t give anymore.
People just take from them
And respect them
For allowing them
To take.
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