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The high-pitched red line of the horizon
personals [ ]
poem

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [Djemagu ]

2011-09-06  |     | 




Dost you don’t know me yet

How strange your glances?

Previously were compassionate

Declared a traitor now?

As winter nights get longer

And the numbers of time

As the ashes of the clouds scattering in the air

The storms of the minute hand is thrown from the high towers

We were happy in our simple life

You came beside me and

Spoil the magic of the silent seat

Whereas, used to wrap and embrace

Phaeton used to carry the memories

At the rump of horses

For instance;

Many times I have ooze

... / the most when I was tired

Hey angry Goddess…

What’s your attitude to whom? is your arrogance?

Do you think you have created the seven hills?

You had broken my wings in an ugly way

The evening I felt serene

What colour should I see the sufferings you’ve inflicted?

This is not one or two/…

It is not the real love’s knot either

Take your poisoned arrows/go

Burn it with your own fire together with our memories

Put your tolerance on the shelves of your temples

When leaving take your glances with you…

I don’t want your smell to remain on my pillow either

Hold your breath it doesn’t blow warm

Tear the linen off of your shoulders, into the seas

My only wish

Do not scare the fish alone…

And do not teach them how to destroy the glass hearts

Ships should not to sink at the high-pitched red line of the horizon

And the children never to cry.



Attila Elüstün İstanbul 27/12/2010

Günsel Djemal London 27/12/2010

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