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 tree in the centre,
And a blushing cloud
Gently wobbling down over the world
Like a huge blanket...
Making the leaf-children quiet,
Putting the lioness to sleep
Beneath the tree...
Her ears shaking away a fly
Once in a while...
More flies gather on the wound on her side..
Rising and falling with every breath.
More flies gather on the wound on her side..
And there’s no way to chase them away.
She lies there
Turning orange with the sky...
A loud silence
That speaks much.
I look at the face and see the pride;
The gravity of expression,
The warrior-ness.
I look at the face
And see the eyes gently close...
And the wound on the side
Stops moving.
Now there is gravity of expression,
Warrior-ness,
And eternal sleep...
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