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What dream was night, and what sublime deprivation was love?
The exhausted night and the universe, whose imaginary secrets I wandered timely and untimely, and the pain of the times when I was cast with my humble heart.
My lines were left in tears.
The earth is in fire now.
My love, my lamentation hidden in my amorous heart, my face towards my Lord, and the strength and supplication of my people hidden in the repertoire of an unforgettable past.
There are images of thieves lurking between the lines.
Ah, there are loves under the stairs pouring gasoline on burnt songs.
There is love and hope and.
Since the day it hurt, my homeland love's cardigan is wrinkled and damp and I've been feeling beautiful people and good wishes, but I don't allow myself to stay silent and let it flow, I take refuge in my prayers uninterruptedly and when I am, I fit my country of paradise in my tiny heart.
Today is my sun.
Tomorrow is the moonlight.
And I'm cold in this scorching summer heat, I take the pulse of my country.
I am Istanbul today and every day and I am Istanbul and cry to all cities and I cannot control the fire inside me.
Now the skies are enraged wind passenger clouds
Now the heart is drunk paper drunk pen drunk
The city is crying.'
Satire of the day?
Is it yesterday's humidity?
I pray for mercy from my Lord, I curse the rain to make it rain and curse the traitors of my heart. I offer my condolences to a flower that I can't even bear to be read while its outside is on fire and d/d / is being read by your brothers.
I am flower.
For every day that I praise my country with love, I now patiently knit my life and my color is running away, my mind is running away from me, pain and inconsistent myths and people of strange virtue.
Leads cast shadows.
The evil in me is the evil next to me.
How many days have I anchored in the pain, I burn, what if I die, I feel that I am missing from the fire while I cannot reach and touch the fire, and my existence is diminishing, in fact, I am pumping with a hidden energy, hope and belief, and the tears that fall from my eyes while the tears burn next to the dry, there is no description and no compensation. The pain of the vanished creature, of so many forests and so many people, comes and sits in my heart.
I open it with my pain, I close it with my pain, and I want it to grow as long as I live.
Planting again and again not only destroys hope, sapling and love, but also sends the relief given and will be given by the wind inside me for a salvation that will relieve and soothe all this trouble. The bridge we built with our hands and our hearts, especially when the cracking of the branch breaks their hearts.
Night hidden in the blue of turbulent dreams, and many syllables and dialects dripping from the iris of the hidden eye in the night.
We kicked the day out of the door and we tended to the wind and licorice, the nightless poetry was what I should do and what I consisted of, oh, my songs are hidden in the voice of what's inside me and what I can't sing.
Love is the god, I take refuge in the genealogy of words and I am tested, and I write burnt letters and poems without succumbing to people's petty anger without sighing.