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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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Ship of art

 The ship comes closer and closer

And touches the sand with its long nose.

No one will know it's gone through worse than the looks show;

Riding the wave of Hokusai

Within Shakespeare's tempest.

Then,

On calmer seas,

Standing through Chopin's winter wind,

All thanks to that iron lady:

The sails;

Their maid with the flaxen hair.

Lost at sea,

Lost at sea,

Catching one large fish with Van Gogh's ear as bait.

And all through this sea of monsters it came out,

A bit cracked and whipped.

And they called it great

Because it had become modern art.



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