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…
I am happy to be loved.
But if you see the glass paper weight
Placed on the script of my life,
Will you break it?
If you see the axe
On the stump on my life,
Will you throw it far away?
I am happy to be loved.
But no one will love me,
Because the axe is hard to take out
And the scripts are hard to find.
I don’t know where they are.
I lost them
To the storm around me.
Some people feel,
But only feel themselves.
Some people think,
But only think about others.
You belong to the second.
If you like this stump so much,
Imagine how much you would have loved the tree.
But it doesn’t exist.
I cut it down a long time ago,
Because birds dropped their eggs
And blamed me;
Because the ants tickled me as they ran up.
But I miss it all.
I miss it all now.
Maybe a new tree will grow.
But only admire it from the roots,
Because you'll fall off my branches
And blame me.
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