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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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Pretty from afar

 


You’re a van Gogh painting;

Confusing in proximity,

Pretty from afar…

Like the sun throwing black light

On blue flowers;

Flowers that adore you,

But cannot decorate your hair;

Flowers that want to be plucked

And add to your breath and beauty;

Flowers that long to belong

Away from each other…

Stuck in the same field

Shoulder to shoulder.

You’re a van Gogh painting;

Confusing in proximity,

Pretty from afar…

With a red scar there on the cheek;

Probably a slash of blood

From a decapitated ear…

An ear now free,

But more freed by death than life…



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