One Two Three Şiiri - Kasım Kobakçı

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.
Her notebooks were calcified and buried, as she had tainted the fearful roses.
One two three, temporary and distant and unprepared...
It was something, no is it an event person.

It is impossible to show, it was everywhere.
Dark worries were oozing out from under the doors.
This tale erases clear traces of time, whether there is any repentance or not.
Every absence that requires loyalty, because it should be written on the eyes, it is made to be forgotten by its course.

She wants to be shaped by words, because her sorrow is the curved iron of a balcony.
From reading a dead body, water has accumulated in the water, and it grows on the face of the street.
One two three, few pieces and black and heavy.
It was something, of course everyone herself.

Under long coats, umbrellas...
A babbling emptiness, long hats on the back of the newspapers.
Glancing in the low saloons of the ferries, where boys and girls believe.
A painted mouth and a pair of eyes, where was the last time a missing person's notice was seen.

At least one of them must get up and leave, the girls whose houses are marked by rain.
For there is no greater day than a body scattering the clouds.
One two three, all of a sudden and naive and wide hips...
It was something, ridiculous mountains offer.