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 mountain stands
With a baret of smoke
Hiding the fact that it is a volcano,
And can froth out liquid fire anytime.
Then there are these climbers
Who want to climb it,
Who’ve made up the peak
They’ve never seen
In their heads...
They’ll climb
And climb
To the edge of the crater
With frequently jumping flames,
As if a demonic whale
Is jumping in and out gracefully,
Splashing it everywhere.
Disappointed,
The climbers will place the flag on the edge
And leave.
And when they leave,
The froth comes out to devour the flag
And the world.
They better make it to the ground fast.
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