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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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A city with life


 The sky is starless,

But the billboards, Chinese lamps and neon

Touch the puddle with fingers of artistry...

Now quiet,

Then quivering under shining black boots,

A part of it sticking,

And then letting go;

Leaving a trail 

that dulls and disappears;

Leaving a trail

That holds within the same twinkling life of the noisy night.

The sky is starless,

But the billboards, Chinese lamps and neon

Touch the puddle with fingers of artistry...

The city doesn’t die

And so stays its waters here and there,

Becoming whatever music the city wears.


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