Gün dönse de, bahar geçse de, telaş yorsa da güzel,
Şans seni bin bir kapıdan geçirse de güzel,
Sevgiyle girdik güne, hep koşturduk,
Kalbine girersek, sana zor olsa da güzel.
Yürü sessizce, geç aşk kapısından,
Onaylamadığımız önerilen yollar var,
Yanlış davranışa yanlışla karşılık vermeyiz.
Ancak saç yolma varsa saç da çekersiniz,
Zararsız durumda bir yol bulacaksınız.
The dirty blood leaking from the latest blockade,
It drips into the abstract womb of the soil.
A miserable seed cracks while waiting for spring.
The bisector of our thought, descending proudly,
The blood eats.
Neither death nor life, neither future nor past,
The efforts I spent poured into the water,
My path leads to the abyss, perhaps,
An ambush awaits me ahead, perhaps.
I walked silently, without knowing my end,
What dreams can I leave aside,
Nor can I love you again like before...
I can wait alone.
Like that; I cant do anything.
If I extend my hand now,
One two three, bud and shy and monumental...
It was a place, no, it was illegible and androgynous, constantly dividing.
Repentance from experiencing a form of extinction, will it increase or not?
It was after the grocers of surprised men, where flour was flowing from their hands.
It is the last time that the sky is tried for the last time, bitter than dates, eaten raw by a whim.
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