There were times when I believed the wind could take me,
My carpet flying from the tablecloth,
How do I know that the wind does not blow in this oasis.
If there was one thing I knew, it was that I didn't really know the things I knew.
I wish my ignorance could fly without fear on the red and white picnic mat.
My ignorance had no fear of getting on a plane, on the contrary, he was very fond of mingling with the nomadic storks.
But as I said, the wind did not blow in this oasis.
So my ignorance sat where he sat, and we ate on that tablecloth.
I made roses from red ribbons,
I couldn't bear to wither them,
I left the people I loved; I wrapped it in glass trinkets,
I couldn't bear to break them.
An unfortunate autumn stole my roses,
He took it away, it turned yellow and withered.
My glass trinkets crumbled under the feet.
I am left with a winter and shards of glass from distant calendars.
We never had expensive slippers,
Why would slippers be expensive anyway,
I can't go to the beach barefoot,
I don't know if they give slippers in hell.
It's not worth it if they don't.
I am used to walking barefoot.
Those in the oasis swiftly cross the paths where the camels stumbled,
That's why we always help the host in the invitations where the guests are late.
I don't know how,
Being a home... how does it feel,
Mothers home; fathers hearth,
I know what it's like to be a teapot in prison.
In fact, in our oasis, no criminal record is asked for teapots.
Because we know that they drink the strongest shades of conviction.
As a result, only us oasis and captive teapots could appreciate the freedom that was handed over after his elderly uncle's son.
I don't ask people anymore,
Let them not ask me about me,
I am not human,
Today I am a fenerbahce mug,
Tomorrow a teapot whose legs are burned from oblivion.
It is in the blood of us oasis and in places darker than blood,
A lack of acquaintance with ourselves and a bit of incompatibility.
We have spent most of our lives chasing our reflections in the water.
We didn't have long mirrors and coat racks to hang our jackets on.
My grandparents had mirrors; they broke,
My grandmother adds tea to milk, not to tea.
I would love to die,
To be buried with an orange tree,
I want so much to live,
Marrying cats and giving birth to dogs.
Kayıt Tarihi : 26.3.2023 15:04:00
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