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 look at the blue hills and see so much more.
I see lamps hanging outside houses,
Blinking at the night like sleepy eyes.
I see the moon caught up in the bowl of trees
That make a crown for the hills.
A bat,
A moth,
A train going by in its silent loudness.
I look at the blue hills and see so much more
Than darkness.
I look at the blue hills
And feel like missing something
I never had;
Feeling something new;
The humbleness of being small.
I look at the blue hills
Taking up space
Like sumo wrestlers standing with half-bend knees.
I look at the blue hills
And see so much more than the hills themselves.
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