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 look at the fire and see wolves howl
And mothers protect their children from them.
I look at the fire and see the smart young lad rubbing stones together.
I look at the fire
And find it drowsy in the cold,
Crying like there's a glass bottle in there.
The fire closes it's eyes
Slowly
And I still see nothing in it.
The cold
And cold alone
Has killed it.
I look at the fire and see wolves howl
And mothers protect their children from them.
I look at the fire and see the smart young lad rubbing stones together.
But it's cold,
And the damp fibre refuses to glow again.
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