The high-pitched red line of the horizon

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