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 used to play the piano,
But I loved it so much
That I hate it now.
There was nothing
I couldn’t do on it.
There was no challenge,
No oar-less boat,
No fire
To part the mist.
Then someone asks to teach them.
And I see my boat approach the waterfall.
Not having touched it,
Not able to play it.
I sit down
Again,
Falling in love with it
Again.
The river's calm.
My fingers fall softly,
Like drops from a twig
That tickle the water.
I'll love it for sometime
Until I become good at it
Again.
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