title: Blood
form: a poem
For Hakan Akçura. With friendship.Blood
Sometimes
When I am awake at night or asleep
I feel something wet in my breast
In that deep red I retired inside
A mourning moisture grows green in time...
And I
Look at my wrists...
Blood pours from stories,
From rages,
From massacres,
From forests,
From cities,
And from males...
And I
Look at my wrists...
Nothing grows where it irrigated,
In neither altar nor street nor
Deep earth...
It vaporizes, then smears with an ancient curse,
Smears, smears on everything...
It becomes a lake, darkens and freezes within crimes...
And I
Look at my wrists...
If it is a woman, I save her for a new life,
The far places are beside her anyway,
It brings up and applies the life step by step.
And I
Look at my wrists...
