There is no talented characterization for the grace on your eyes,
Nor is there equivalence in the kingdom of miraculous paradise
Every field of etymology becomes disabled in front of your glance;
What you have left as a trace over me is written in my own sense
The wind over my head is performing a hilarious and blissful dance
Nights are in pursuit of your shining star,
Whereas your absence is growing as a big scar
Heal my soul with your ever-sparkling presence;
Otherwise, my veins are drowned into the sea-lance
Even though the bard of all the poets struggle to create a phrase,
There only arise several anonymities and the thunderous maze
The origin of every word carries something from your very existence;
Besides, the lurking bodies' movement speaks of your nameless stance
Lo! The founder of the universe
Draw me a picture smelling of a wonderful verse
Your scent has turned into a palace of heaven screaming of hers
Written by the master of loneliness,
Okan EMANET
No comments:
Post a Comment