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…
The fingers wrinkle,
The grape shrinks,
The chapels and palace domes turn green
And kiss the earth.
The building's in pain.
But the bricks triumph with joy as they meet what they're made of.
The fingers wrinkle,
The grape shrinks,
And the rocks move out of the way as the stream widens.
The water doesn’t change.
But the water will have less stones it can punch at.
The water will be free to flow
And free to flood.
The fingers wrinkle,
The grape shrinks,
The chapels and palace domes turn green
And kiss the earth.
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