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…
A white candle kept lighted in the dark,
Melting;
Pieces of wick going around in the flowing slough.
A white candle kept lighted in the dark,
Turning orange,
Turning into black water
Where the other flames wink their eyes
Before going out
One
By one
By one...
Now the black water has no white borders or orange soul.
Now the black water shimmers gently
And rolls down the table.
Now the black water
Has become the darkness it was revisiting for so long.
Now the black water which guided with the candle
Waits for someone to slip on it
And break their hip.
Another white candle kept lighted in the dark,
Melting;
Pieces of wick going around in the flowing slough...
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