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…
The window swings open;
The frost is melting away,
Rolling down.
The window swings open,
But doesn’t hit the wall.
It stays between wall and wall,
Locking arms with the wind
Amid his song,
Amid the fragrance of bending flowers.
Somewhere,
A sail dances with it.
Somewhere,
Someone's untied hair does so too.
The window knows this.
The window sees all this.
Yet it moves its feet to the rhythm,
Because it removes the frosty tears
And reminds that there are fingers that can hold
And eyes that can stay dry.
It moves to the rhythm,
But doesn’t hit the wall.
It stays between wall and wall,
Locking arms with the wind....
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