floods...floods...floods
nature made disasters
and man made disasters
circle the mankind
...
His mother has given birth to a boy for me
an eye browless..blond boy
lying in his swaddling clothes all in blues
a light ball..weighing three kilos
...
the smoke
which is descending from the mountains
and scattering
is not the winter smoke from now on
...
there is a bird in Erzincan province
no silver no silver on her wings
my beloved gone..never came back again
no hope of her returning from now on
...
my dear comrades
send me only the books which write sadness
and then end at the end happily
let the aeroplane land on the airport safely
...
ı do not like fake flowers
having no soul and odor
dry and like ice
they gaze with their icy..cold eyes
...
Jackal..howled with a long breath into the air
and wove into the night its voice like a tolling knell
wavering from the mountains onto the plains
...
we were the three...Bedirhan..Nazlican and me
three mouthes, three hearts, three sworn bullets
our names were written on the mountains
and on the rocks as trouble
...
outside
the birds are singing
the mountains crimson and bare
the fish-bones of the poplars
...
you look lıke a scorpion my friend
you live cowardly ın darkness like a scorpion
you look like a sparrow my friend
you are in the haste of a sparrow
...