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 slice of lemon on the brim
Flowing down to the cocktail below,
But not touching the surface,
Waiting...
The fly comes,
And the wind chases it away.
The lemon flows down
And waits...
The rain comes,
And the wind blows
To push it away;
Like a villain punched in the stomach,
Falling back in slow motion...
Into the ocean..
Hitting a rock and Bouncing back
Slightly..
From a mattress
With springs made of blood
Which dissipate
And won’t cushion another fall
So smoothly that it kills.
She comes in the rain
With her polka umbrella
And the cocktail and water has become one.
Now she sees the olive inside
Even before she drinks...
Comments
Post a Comment