Our love is a treasure,
I have seen it before the sunrise
Do you see its colors?
They are just smiles of our love
*
From our whispers,
the birds learned their songs
and from our touches,
the sunsets took their silk clothes.
*
From our secrets
-which I am not told -
the evenings have learned
every warm story.
Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 9:42 AM UTC
THE NIGHT
The night is tender
and its heart is wide,
just like the cows I saw in Indian cities.
So, without any delay,
I disappeared into its soft soul.
Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 6:50 AM UTC
PURITY
Because my father planted me with the wheat seeds,
I can see my soul on our watery face.
It is melting at noon like a child.
Oh, the purity it holds.
How I miss it.
A LEAF
Like a leaf in a river,
That's how I wanted to live,
But now I'm afraid,
Because my color has become more strange
THE BIRDS
The birds don't lie
because they are wild.
Listen to their chants;
they will revive loyalty
In your emigrant soul.
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 3:31 AM UTC
Look at my silence
It roams freely in my heart.
Look at my heart
It sits on the walls like a cat.
Look at me;
I stand there coldly, not waiting for summer.
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 3:11 AM UTC
Our fields aren’t tenderhearted,
They are gloomy
Where the bean swings over its grass
As sad brides.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 7:43 AM UTC
I am a cold shadow
With silent lips
At night,
I am just a faceless moon
And by day,
I am a blind owl.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 7:42 AM UTC
I had searched for long time;
I searched in every place my fingers reach;
I searched in my gray color,
and I searched in my descent
but I did not find my face.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 1:04 PM UTC
Our walls are perfect and unbelievable.
They prevent any love
or any warm hands.
Our walls are fantastic in the killing of our days.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 7:50 AM UTC
I don't like the sadness,
and as any man,
I wish to fall in a deep love,
but you see my smashed tress
and my lonely streets.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 7:49 AM UTC
I try to be cheerful
and always attempt to wash my bitterness,
but the stormy wind
is constantly coloring my soul
with a dry breeze.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 7:48 AM UTC