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…
I'll wait for you
On this rusty bench near an overflowing rubbish bin,
Spray painted with black and red symbols
That look like some ancient language.
I'll wait for you
On this rusty bench near an overflowing rubbish bin,
Until the garbage man comes to empty it,
Until the trees toss around orange leaves
And become skeletons
Whose thin fingers break under the snow.
I hope you'll come
To make me a fireplace.
I hope you'll come
To brew for me warm soup,
Or make steaming tea.
Take your time.
Even if you're late, I'll wait.
The trees should have so much courage
To be naked in the winter.
We are what we are surrounded by.
So I'll look at the trees
And learn courage.
It will be
My fireplace,
My soup,
My warm tea.
But I’ll wait for you
To get more firewood to my fireplace,
To add pepper to my soup,
To add sugar to my tea.
But I’ll wait for you
And I’ll kiss you on your neck
While you add sugar,
While you add pepper.
And I’ll kiss you on the lips
When we sit at the fireplace together.
This winter;
It kills trees, fire, and even water.
And without you,
It may kill me too.
So I’ll wait for you on this rusted park bench
To die
Only after a kiss
From you.
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