An unexpected sadness has born,
In a moment of silence, here strikes
Some sorrows from foamy water of the sea.
As if the ancient violin stopped to play in a distant city.
I hear the cries only, but no chaos – no sound of water fall.
I am waiting under a light post in an empty city at night.
Watching – This night the Himalayas (1) are shaken;
Fujiama (2) roars like the doomsday, written in the Holy Book,
Whistled by the 'Hisrafil' (3) and by the will of God,
The world has doomed in a time.
And then, yet I hope to think -
Seeing the dew on the grass' top, where
The rainbow smiles,
The bohemian wind that comes
With the smell of green field - pushes my chest with freshness,
And the Sun goes to sleep in the dusky sky
The cricket feels no rest at night.
In that silence -
I remember again the old violin player of our time.
Hear his music with rhythm of fire flies' journey in darkness -
Each moment, I feel the memories of her,
Like water drops on burning rock, in
Each breath, here has born again, 'Love.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem