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…
Birds fly through clouds,
But we only see them when they're outside.
And the clouds can be white, red or grey;
It doesn’t matter.
And the clouds can be peaceful, or shooting lightning;
It doesn’t matter.
All of them hide the birds.
The grey clouds hold tight over deserts
And rain down on floods.
The white clouds don't bring anything
And try to make everyone happy.
The red clouds are pretty,
But they appear when no one can see.
Yet all of them can hide the same kind of birds.
Birds fly through clouds,
But we only see them when they're outside.
And the clouds can be white, red or grey;
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