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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…

Lonely gentlemen

 


I see a gentleman

Reduced  to a pair of lips in the dark,

Smoking a cigar;

It’s blue smoke only visible

When it reaches the shaft of light

That creeps in through the gap in the curtains…

I see a gentleman

Dressed in bow and hat,

But never going out

To make the ladies laugh at trivial things,

To make an infant cry with his stern face,

To see the children play

While pretending to read the newspaper,

Holding it upside down…

I see a gentleman

Often looking out through the windows,

Trapped within himself

In a place darker than the room around him…

Able to see everything,

But not observe…

Able to see everything,

But not feel…

For he is trapped in his coat,

Which has no skin to do so…



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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…