English

BERMUDA TRIANGLE 

I’m a soldier who has lined his face to the cold wall of the trench 
My bullets are words …
Place your eyes on mine!
We all are wounded in this war.
We’re all exiled in our land…
Place your eyes on mine!
Your eyes are like Bermuda Triangle
The gone never come back …
If you’re asked, respond: 
The poet never came back! 

THE SNOW
The nights that I miss
Your voice is like a song that Lord recites 
Comes like snow to my morning. 
Silently…
White …

TRAGIC POEM 
A piece of me has stayed far away
Under the rain
Those are gone from me, don’t have a “return” ticket
The storm is the nightmare of the trees on old nights 
The fingerprint of a woman is shivering in the fancy of windows 
A prisoner with hands like an elm leaf 
Whose voice as light 
In the name of the freedom 

She may write this poem on the wall of his cell
May give birth by the voice of pigeons instead of the sun this spring 
Instead of the bullet wound of the girl in this war
May shot this poem into her heart …
“May”s are birds of pain in the sky of wishes 
Fly … fly … and disappear. 
The past of my hands are Greek Gods 
Has been forgotten 
Buried in the cemetery of history 
My eyes were buried in your far beautifulness 
Bury me with my loneliness in autumn colors 
It’s autumn … 
Leaves are bulletin of elections 
The trees elect the death

THE CEMETERY OF LETTER 

I kissed the darkness of the night …
I entered into the sun pages of the morning. 
My hands bear the greenness of leaves, 
Spring is my hands …
Looked into the world to find my eyes.
The legs of men pain, 
Scarf blows on the head of the woman, 
The scarf 
Blows like the flag of the country, 
Blows …
The hands are opened to the poem in my mind, 
Catches the skirt of twilight, 
The opened hands for the poem in my mind are shackled, 
Drowned in the sweat 
It’s a long time, the mirrors don’t show the poets 
Poets have been buried in the cemetery of letters 
Here, the sun sets down with the time of women 
Here, the wind blows from darkness 

Translated by the poet