For The Victorious Feelings To Bloom

The open sea and I
Hours as stern sails cross the world,
I'm getting closer to the sheikh victor,
A man of candle and fire,
Taking inspiration from the waves.

A cardboard childhood surrounded the sea,
Dead bird that turns purple in the evening,
Turns time in the Judas River,
Why does the bud wear Nowruz for the washed well-being?

Dark cloves turn the lodos into rain,
He calls the sun with drums and horns,
To adventures without a song, to love,
In the painted seasons that hold a mirror.

The last lights are in our eyes,
In our hearts, the meaning promenade,
Khidr and you
You set fire to a closed wound.

Spring come to play bye,
In the scent of the hyacinth, it awakens the isagul,
When the white dove kisses the black rose,
Shadows become law, in folk songs familiar with immortal fecr.

Like my frankincense,
With prevailing feelings
To the victorious dreams that occupy the bud,
What can a person do?

Let's die two couplets on your lips,
With a drawn ah sword,
How many love the world,
How many conquers?

In the office of Huseyni,
Bye sofa stops,
I'm irfan
Unseasonably playful,
With pomegranate flower,
I write your name in the most secluded hearts.

Softly I read heaven to broken hearts,
To those who look from the fortress of the heart with bleeding love,
That holy atmosphere offers fire,
Without separating the sky from venom.

Where is the view higher than the rose,
A panacea, love in the prophet,
He cries a holy morning,
Mountains read emotions without moving.

To the copper-hearted lads,
The rose bleeds the nightingale,
In a burning glass of fire,
For those who have lost their sight.

Is it profitable, ebucehil watermelon juice,
Before Ismet, whose temper has changed,
I can read, my eyes write my words,
With the wing tips of the nightingale.

A wise joy victorious blue calls,
Pick me up from china beach,
In dead child eyes,
Look at this dirty silence.

Zatu's suver the prophet Abraham,
The red landscape fades,
In unique dreams,
Birch-rib autumn blooming.

My shores are the end times,
In my dark palms,
Fragile joy,
He reads two bodies as far as he can,
As if weaving love from masnavi to masnavi.

Amazed and I to each other why,
Let's not prolong spring and love,
For the victorious feelings to bloom.