sabit ince

(27 August 1954 / Nevsehir, kozakli Gerce)

ANGRY WITH YEARS


A little baby is now aged
Birthday to me, I angry with years..
Haşlandım be put into boiling cauldrons
Birthday to me, I angry with years..

Nice one by one hopes fade
You killed a thousand times back doğurtup
I cry my happy friendly foe
Birthday to me, I angry with years..

Sirma finished my hair one by one
Sayre whether you place the bearings
Did you bring me a profit of Erciyes mountain
Birthday to me, I angry with years..

Can I Am I knew the paper Pen
I did not receive the blessings that you gave?
I'm not here, I say let's run?
Birthday to me, I angry with years..

Winters are elicited, type froze
What prosper nor swore ondurdun
'Patience of salvation, ' he tricked
Birthday to me, I angry with years..

Wrote that no one seemed to thin
Even God created the kıymadı
Did not put on the nine fired
Birthday to me, I angry with years..

Submitted: Thursday, July 04, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, July 23, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

sabit ince Kayseri 11/07/2012 14: 40

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