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…
There is light at the end of the tunnel,
And we run for it
Like stallions in a dark forest
Emerging from yellow mist,
Needing no knight to whip our necks.
There is light at the end of the tunnel,
And we run for it
Through marshes,
Snow,
And our own dust…
With red eyes,
And starved thighs suddenly muscular,
With bones wrapped in blue veins
That pulse and pulse
With every stride…
Coming out of our own dust
Like heavenly warriors
With hammers
And wings of steel,
Looking through the clouds
At the world below
To keep themselves entertained…
Because all the world’s a circus
And the people are merely clowns…
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