A Bitter Silence Şiiri - Kasım Kobakçı

It's like there's someone inside me,
It guides me in the direction I'm going,
Calling from time to time,
The spaces I created in my mind.

I surrender to the heavy rain,
Unaware that tomorrow will be a hopeful day,
I am walking,
Where my anger is,
Reminding itself with every breath,
Every breath that turns into torture,
My pain is getting worse.

All kinds of changes in me,
As if his mind was the work of an indigestion,
The season is over,
Discolored,
I'm in chronic pain,
Armful witnesses of purification in a new climate,
My wet lashes.

The city is already enough of a threat to me,
Strange voices,
Suffering, miserable and formless compositions,
A lousy heap of noise,
For a few days,
Like a whirlpool,
It pulls me in.

I touch the button of the radio on the table,
I close my eyes and let the music flow,
Every second passes by in the cold and cold solitude,
Every light falls on times when there is no hope,
So many soulful voices in the forms of my soul,
The tunes of one of my favorite songs.

Curtains are drawn on my heart,
Even the clock hanging on the wall is motionless,
Tired of frustrating loneliness,
Shadows reflect on the ground from the dim light,
When Hicaz accompanies a sadness,
One by one they are flowing away.

A pile of old things,
My head is split in two or even three,
Perhaps most importantly,
I am helpless against my drooping eyes, my dry lips,
It's like I'm on the streets of Istanbul,
As fragmented as possible,
A wind blows me apart piece by piece.

The only cure for my lost health,
He invents without even realizing it,
My old prayer rug,
A few magical prayer times above it,
A few unclassified ideas of eternity,
The desire of a few repentants to be forgiven.

Only the love and exuberant side of life is exhausted,
I have only one side to be carried like a burden,
Like I'm in a crowd,
An intense feeling surrounded,
Inspirations come from far away,
I write poems.

I am exposed to some developments,
I'm looking for my ocean, of which I was created,
A pile of things to the left of my cinema,
It changes with the rhythm of a dance of flame,
My fruit glasses are breaking,
I'm falling into pieces.

It is expanding, growing, the hours are getting longer,
Then again I sink into a magic sky,
Coral color seeping through the evening clouds,
As if the saffron yellow was one of the veins of light,
I'm floating
Towards a different place.

In the twilight everything is a shadow,
I see floating faces,
I hear voices pleading,
Someone reaches my nerve endings,
The next enigma.

If not for the harmony of the sound of the law blowing on my ashes,
Maybe I'll be completely lost,
Now I'm looking for my other half,
In the mirror of an I syllable,
Like a man of time.

Twenty-four hour awake city,
I'm filled with longing like never before,
I'm here now,
Here I'm going,
My right, my left, my front, my back,
A bitter silence.