Okan Emanet Poems

Over the valleys of my heart extends a new flower,
Throughout the empire of lonesome plants grows an unusual clover
The prophecy to be uttered is a sure star for any evil eye,
Whereby an excellent waterfall arouses a lie and tie
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Sitting at the doorstep of the destiny,
The rhyming soul sheds the tears of blood
There is no sound coming from the tune of humanity
And shine the very existence of a lady on my plot
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Just as God controls all His sons in the rhyme of universe,
We are called 'Per-son' in the realm of any verse
And the resulting effect is the divine mood and ease
The individuals get a sacred shelter in case of tease
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While flowing down with the mysterious essence,
The rivers and streams release what can be called your sense
All around the steps of the valleys shines the sun of your beauty,
Pointing the inner and outer parts of what is missing in me
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I am a man with countless wounds in the heartache kingdom
As a crying baby suffers from tortures in the camp of serfdom
All around by bleed and feed soul exists only one word 'boredom'
Among the cold bushes of the crowds, I demand to be your freedom
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With the same song on and on for a long time,
With a heart utterly away from each life's rhyme,
With the loads of tears dropping in a bleeding way,
With the awesome knife in my hand drawing my say,
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There is no talented characterization for the grace on your eyes,
Nor is there equivalence in the kingdom of miraculous paradise
Every field of etymology becomes disabled in front of your glance;
What you have left as a trace over me is written in my own sense
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For anyone to challenge love, it is necessary to be sad
You carry the ashes along your heart you have to add
Time becomes a callous instructor, leading to go mad
Who has come before will go by who is passing by their hat
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Merely intent on one miraculous word has become a lone paragraph,
There is an individual yelling the meaning of tomorrows in a miserable photograph,
A self-recognition in the stardom has fallen into a serfdom of pain-graph,
I am reading the lines of an etymologist’s biography under a subtle autograph,
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In the course of watching the movie over my face, something becomes really plain,
There is a kind of fall-in-love sensation growing either inside or outside on a plane
When the dropp falls upon my head soon after the burning sunny weather in the rain,
Thoughts turn into a sort of chaos, whereby hearts are suffering due to the blocked drain
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