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 see a tree among the hills
With black leaves
And contorted branches,
Like it grew out of some one-eyed black cat
Buried by some witch
For some failed ritual,
Abandoned there…
I see a tree among the hills,
With veins creeping up from the roots,
Wrapped around holes and turns
In the wood;
Veins carrying black blood,
Pulsating,
The sun’s silver glow on it
Shifting
As it coils around
Tighter
And tighter
Until the branches tremble
And the leaves move on their own…
I see a tree among the hills
And I fling a piece of rock at it,
Causing a monstrous silence,
As if the land had swallowed the ocean
To kill it’s rumbling tides…
There was a monstrous silence
After which the veins turn to dust,
And the leaves fly away
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