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Crying is not enough, to be human, for sentimentality, for love and affection
Perhaps the answer would be, “What if the baby doesn't cry!” No living thing grows, the land becomes a desert, a desolation.
Where he laments, he cultivates conscience and mercy.
People hide their crying, because they are shamed.
They even say that I never cry.
Can a person who does not cry be human?
Can it survive? Never…
Crying, conscience, mercy, love, affection… What would happen? If you ask the executioner, are you the father? Would you execute your son? If your child suffers, would you laugh? says never. He does not kill his child, but does not hesitate to kill another. His conscience does not ache because of this death. He never thinks if he has a child, wife, mother and father, whether they will be sad. If he thought about it, he wouldn't be able to execute that person anyway.
How can he both cry and do such a job? It is like a place with heavy rainfall in nature. As it rains, there is a flood, it grows larger, it does not fit anywhere. The one who watches that flood from a place where it will not be harmed enjoys how beautifully the water flows. However, that flood destroyed the houses, dragged people away and killed them. The image he exhibits when he kills his executioner is like this.
Can there be hiccups where there is no pain?
The person who is sobbing will not be harmed by the person who is sobbing. Crying too much hurts others. It hurts hearts that don't hurt. looks for solutions. Crying a lot is wasteful and harmful.
Can it be compared?
A helpless person cries, burns their lungs, and relaxes like this for a moment. Maybe these are done excessively for some, and for some there is no need to do it. Its degree varies according to its location in the heart. A person who has killed thousands of people and has no conscience, swears revenge when his loved ones die, cries, shouts and calls. This person, who does not think about whether the people he killed has a loved one, will break the apocalypse when his loved one dies. How contradictory is this, astonishingly terrifying.
When a person kills another and does not show mercy to him, he believes that whatever he thinks should be done.
He wants to see him die, he looks at it with pleasure as if he is watching a movie.
How does a person whose heart is relieved by crying do this, how can he enjoy this sight.
This is the surprising situation.
So crying is not enough, for being human, for sentimentality, for love and affection.
It's like planting seeds in the field before it rains...
That seed brings about the birth of humanity.
Rain, soil and seed.
If these three are not together, there will be neither conscience, mercy, nor humanity.
Lament, heart and conscience.
These should not be spoiled in every human being.
One should weep, and lamentation should not cause one to lose one's humanity.
If I go on a never-ending sugar journey.
With the birds, with the butterflies.
If I forget the kicks I have taken, all humanity that crushes and oppresses each other.
If I live pure love.
If I gather the suns from the sky, wander in the clouds and never think about the future.
If I were a child, I would tell myself some fairy tales.
I forget all the pain I've been through.
If I don't let anything but love into my heart.
If I live an immortal, pure life.
If only I could be happier than I've ever been.
If I take my head and go, more than what I see,
If I walk up and down, on wooden bridges.
If I eat bread, in the combative coastal villages
If I open a way of love and reach my Lord.
If I set out to the seas with my blue sail,
If I could dive into the deep blue, endless waters,
If I lay too long, in the highlands of my country,
If I never hit a stone, the feelings inside me.
If a warm breeze blows and scatters my hair,
If the birds are chirping on my toes,
If I live beyond a dream, the joy of life in the snowdrop,
Let me say hello to new worlds, new people.
Even if my favorite is on my slope
If only I could throw myself into trout beds
If I let the set free, without a second thought,
All my hopes that I had trapped inside of me.
Just as every grain of wheat is born with an ear,
If I was born like that, into a new world.
My rain, my water with all my dough,
With my hopes, my cries, my cries
If I take my head and go, it is beyond what I see.