Everybody needs a story in which realities dance into facts
They therefore struggle a brand-new stage on which love acts
Something from the past always drowns the words on their throats
Dreams are incredible vessels that cannot play the song of floats
As for me, I am but a metaphysical poet
That has only been bestowed to eternally regret
That has merely been dressed to achingly forget
What really matters in our world is to identify our facts
Tell me a story, my destiny, write up a new fate
Let it spark off with countless poor ifs...
The lines of any poem resemble your eyes,
The shining stars worship upon your paradise,
The meaning of life dances with your once glance,
Let this body and soul die for your stance...
If there weren't a volcano erupting on and on in my left part,
that soul in the river of hell wouldn't be leading a life by art...
If she hadn't risen into my world,
another fact could have smiled by Lord...
Written by Okan Emanet
the art of loneliness...
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