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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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Things can get lonely

 Things are as lonely as the gate of a Buddhist shrine in the water,

Things are as lonely as the cloud pierced by a mountain peak,

The moon with no clouds to tuck it in,

Frost on windows,

An unlit candle.

Things can get lonely.

But the shrine is always at peace,

The cloud can hug the mountain and stay longer if it wants.

The frost will roll down,

The unlit candle lives longer,

The moon can disappear too.

Things can get lonely.

Things are as lonely as the gate of a Buddhist shrine in the water,

Things are as lonely as the cloud pierced by a mountain peak,

The moon with no clouds to tuck it in,

Frost on windows,

An unlit candle.




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