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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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After my death

 I'm a simple drawing;

The house and the tree every child draws.

I'm the gravel

On which motorbikes slip.

I'm the cup

That is kept even though it leaks.

It's hard to live like this.

And yet

I survive

Like the street dog lying in the middle of a rushing crowd,

Like a hanging bulb swaying in the violent wind,

Like a crying rose,

A wounded bird,

A light.

I'm simple,

And I don’t last for long.

But after I go,

They'll realise I'd existed.

After I go,

They search for me everywhere

And glorify me for the things

I did and didn’t do.


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