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 day sleeps
Like a fawn amid the flowers
All curled up;
A twitching ear,
Eyeballs rolling underneath,
Lying on the wet grass
That glistens like water in a bucket
Witnessing the sunset…
The grass the glistens
Like an infant
Opening it’s eyes
For the first time…
The day sleeps
Like a fawn amid the flowers,
Not concerned
About the absence of its own mother…
Not concerned
About the limp on its hinds,
Or its loud snore…
Not concerned
About the lioness who watches,
Hidden in the wheatish grass;
Its claws awake,
And it’s back stretched like a bow
Ready to shoot forward…
Comments
Post a Comment