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…
The angel has burned its wings
And crashed into the earth.
The angel has burned its wings
And crashed into a cemetery.
She sits up and cries.
And then she laughs
Looking at her statue placed there,
Blowing a trumpet.
The beings have sculpted her so accurately
And they've never even seen her.
The beings have sculpted her so accurately,
They must be gods.
There are no clouds,
But there's mist.
There is no God’s light,
But there's the sun.
This is a miniature heaven,
And she doesn’t have to be an angel here.
Her wings
Her wings have burned away
And she sees herself in the fountain;
She giggles and the water giggles back.
She looks like any other girl.
Finally
She's feel belonged and welcomed.
It’s enough to be human.
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