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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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Sorrow is an old friend

 Sorrow is an old friend;

A letter in a bottle hitting the same shore

Again.

Sorrow is an old friend

Who comes 

With white flowers

On which dew turns into blood,

With cake

Which tastes of raw flesh

And veins.

Sorrow is an old friend,

Who hurts you by hugging tight enough;

And they'll all think it's tears of joy.

He comes out dragging a chain

In the snow of my dead soul.

He comes out after imprinting his palm

On the frosted window of my heart.

He plays broken violins

And puts on puppet shows for me

And me alone.

He shoots at the air and claims a bird fell dead

Somewhere.

He puts on bad dances

I'm forced to clap at.

Sorrow is an old friend

I'll meet again.


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