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…
I go to the stream to meditate
And get distracted
By the gargling rocks;
Forever sick,
Being ripped off the moss…
Going bald everyday;
Bald like a vulture
On the lookout for prey
To fall on its knees like an impailed bull;
A sack of muscle conquered,
A Gulliver tied down by little people
For the time being,
Until it finds strength;
Lifting its muscular arm,
Flinging the rope,
The sand,
The people…
It lifts its muscular arm
And grabs its mighty hammer
To strike the clouds
And make thunder…
I go to the stream to meditate
And get distracted
By the gargling rocks;
Forever sick,
For the water is fresh
And has no salt…
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