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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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The wind

 I'm a love letter written in cursive,

Left on a bench

And carried by the wind onto the surface of a pond.

I'll float on the surface

And someone will pick me up

And try to read.

But all in vain!

There are only two people who can read that handwriting.

And there is only one person who can read it when wet.

But the letter will reach someone with poor taste,

And no patience.

The letter will reach someone

Who will throw it back into the pond.

The wind watches over me

Helplessly,

Unable to get me out

Of the hell it has gotten me into.

The wind watches over me

Until I soak and sink in the water

With fishes that can’t read.

Then the wind will go searching for another bench,

Another hopeless man,

Another letter...


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