In that circle I constantly turning alone,
I see only the image of myself
Continuously I feel -
Just destitution across all over my beings
Infinite solitude in the groove
Rather, it is more in harmony with darkness
Although in search of light through the lifelong
I broke my own rib
All that alphabet, which are
in the circumference of the circle and along the diameter
Only the obsession of silent grazing in that letters
Which flows towards seclusion.
Concentrated I, constantly revolving in a circle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem