AND LOVE GROWS COLD
I feel the fire of July inside of me… It burns me at a certain time of the night. My thoughts rise up slowly, and YOU do appear at the deepest depth of the words.
Is it love?
As my longing was hanging onto the day, your absence makes your face disappear from my face. At my heart, a garden is in disorder, and time spinning its net does stand in front of me with my flowers plucked from their twigs and smiles slyly.
Actually we had wept together, and as our string loneliness was falling down the void of the time’s depths, it was broken off at its weakest point. It was just you and me to be surrounded by the love flames. The clouds were gathered and dropped from our eyes in order to put out the fire of the flames in our hearts.
Now you are absent!
You pulled off your hands from my hands on a sad June day. You went away! My eyes are lost in the sea of desperation. My heart is fallen down the wave of the night.
And love grows cold…
Non-body gets dressed its skin.
The fire of July is inside of us; in you, I am absent; in me, your absence burns us at a certain hour of the night…
English Translation by Mesut Şenol
10.07.2011 03.03/ At an hour in your absence