Don't name this season as sadness
My mother dies a lot later
If she dies, the sun won't shine on the hawthorn trees.
And no one will know.
That walnut trees are emotional.
All the words were pecking like chickens
All the snakes were in my body like mackerel
They were jumping and jumping
>The blood flowing from my ribs smears the wheat field
Women, men and quail eggs in my bones
I break in half like a pretzel
If I stand up, my chest stops me
An animal is wounded in my breath
Ebb and flow, ebb and flow in my breath
Harps on my back
An ox is emotional inside me
'a child is anxious'
A disaster is crying
My tongue is locked, my palate is in trouble, my foresight is tied, my heart is dumb
My hands, my head, my heart and my back are crying. .
There is no hope in the pupil of these springs
There is no virtue in the gardens
There is no sparkle in the pepper plant
The water I drink
It comes from a dried tree
What I live is not humility
The keys to life disappear before my eyes one after another
Fighting does not lead to victory
I am resentful of struggling
The wormy olive trees do not bear fruit
They do not crown the brown heads of little girls,
Neither this spring nor the florists
Stop it Now these merry-go-rounds
Stop it
Stop it, daddy, daddy.
They came every day
They strangled me every day. They are gone
Every day I am notified
Every day I am in earthquakes
Every day funerals leave our houses
Without an imam, without a sala, without a crowd
Nobody stops me and stuffs me into nothing
The ground is splitting open, I'm afraid of hurting a baby's heart
But I'm not afraid of hell
In the noonday of sadness
To a slice of land where a dead elephant washes the sun
Mondays and Tuesdays dancing around me
Three in the morning, two in the afternoon, late afternoon...
There is always a question on the wall clocks hanging on nails:
Will the world live if I die?
I was peeling eggs and salting them in the Muş plain. It was me who made me fall in love with
I was the one who dropped my shoe into Lake Van
I was the one who got punched in the stomach twice when they were in love in high school
The fuss about the scarf, the tie, the stones.
I was the bread, cheese halva
I was in the sea of myrtle, where Aphrodite washed her hair
Thinking about another woman
I was Karaköy, it was me Balat, it was me, it was me
But now I will gradually melt away.
My friends, my brothers and my bushes are getting further and further away
I lived in the enthusiasm of a baby elephant,
I will die in the memory of a trout.
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