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 sun going down;
The light will soon get red and dirty.
But for now,
It’s golden...
Flashing on the gentle lapping waves
Petting the shore,
Getting it ready for the inevitable night.
I see the gentle lapping waves...
And a butterfly
Trying to sit on the sand...
And the wicked hands trying to drown it
Again and again.
They are still golden
But the colours can no longer be trusted.
The sun going down;
The light gets red and dirty,
And a black and yellow wing floats on the ebb;
Dead
Yet unsinkable.
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