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…
It's January
I dream of green clouds
Yellow ducks on ponds
And pots with dying flowers once beautiful
I dream of my brother smoking
Throwing out his cigarette wet in rain
He isn’t there
And I wake up to the curtains licking the heavy air
The skies cry
And ravens look down upon the world
To find the dead and less alive to yell at
It's January
The fishes land from skies
And birds come out of water covered in oil
We don’t see it struggle because we only go to beaches
From where we have chased them away
There are caves with emeralds
Guarded by bats hanging like they were hung
Legally
We have found these caves
And these emeralds
But we are still in those caves
With the emeralds
Where they are worth no more than any two rocks which could start a fire
Getting there was tough enough
With trees with roots sticking out just to trip the courageous
And to trip courage itself
But our blood has become part of the earth
And we've reached
But there are more than caves
There are graves that breathe and grave robbers that do not
Even though they aren’t buried
And on this journey we've met many of them
And they've not met us
And we'll meet no one
If we stay stuck in these caves
It's December
But who knows
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