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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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Loneliness is a beautiful thing

 Night;

An old man sitting outside an old house,

Raindrops running down car windows,

A leaf-less tree.

Clothes wanting to fly off clotheslines;

No one coming to take them.

Loneliness

Is a beautiful thing.

It happens when things come together

Without minding each other.

Loneliness

Is a beautiful thing.

It is the orange peel dropped outside the rubbish bin,

The shoes looked at but never worn,

Light through a closed window.

Loneliness

Is a beautiful thing.

It is the old man sitting outside the old house,

Looking into the night

To see nothing.

Loneliness

Is a beautiful thing

That should last.





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