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…
A steaming cup of tea
On the hand of the couch,
Two kittens asleep on a cushion
Hugging each other,
A radio playing Tchaikovsky,
The rain reciting poetry from the roof;
Could it get any better than this.
There are things to do,
Things to worry about,
Poems to write,
Memories to kill before they kill time.
But for a moment,
There is nothing but all this.
It makes one feel what is really needed.
It makes one know what is required for happiness.
We look for sweaters
And stand on a stool and look over the closet
Before opening it.
How dumb!
This is all we need in life.
But we try to convince ourselves that we need so much more.
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