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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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The rise

 


The moon hovers over the black water,

Rising against the cold wind

That speaks in the language

Of naked branches,

Crying infants,

And wings of skin…

The moon hovers over the black water,

Proud of the white line it draws over it;

A line that makes us see the water dance

Gently

To the breeze we cannot feel,

When all around is uniform darkness…

Making the alive a part of the dead.

The moon hovers over the black water,

And keeps rising

And rising…

Until the line widens

To swallow the entire sea,

And the mountains,

And the last flower on that leafless branch…

The moon keeps rising

Until it gives its feeble light

To all…


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