Before my eyes I see a dreamy sight:
Her sleepy look does glaze over the days,
As olden vintage clothing of her sways,
Absent of strength, away from lively might.
Her autumn tresses hide her face who's bright,
Aglow surrounded by the daily rays
Who put her, except the rest, in a haze
Like a murky, filmy and misty night.

Who she might be, I do not know, alas,
She's distant from my sight, like she's to me,
But still this filmy tale I did narrate,
About a hazy mood, about a lass,
Who did inspire me. Now I hope she
Will find a bright, soothing, yet lively state.

The breezing leaves are gone, the weather's cold,
The summer and spring went to other places,
The lovely sun through clouds shines not as gold,
No more a comely sheen upon the faces.
The nightingale stops with praising the rose,
The parrot stops repeating other songs,
The smiling buds are coming to a close,
Talking about the colds does fill the tongues.
And so, I only see of you a lonely stem,
Who cannot be adorned to shine again
With a priceless gift, ring or precious gem,
As in past days, to make you beauty reign.
  The fading of beauty, what you concealed,
  Our nature tells about, the air revealed.

Merhaba ey parlak şehir!
Bu vakitte yalnız meydan,
Görünmüyor ki bir insan,
Sokaklar kurumuş nehir.

Yalnız deniz yeli gelir,
Kuşlar geçer zaman zaman,
Millet kafede mi bu an?
Bu şehir ve Mevlam bilir.

Ne o aşıkları gördüm,
Nede ışıkları gördüm,
Bir serin boşluk sadece.

Lakin bu ortam rahattı,
Erkendi şehrin saati,
Bu da bazen kardır gece.

Stay whoever you are I plead,
Those charms, that is what I do need.
But if you have to grow for life,
Just don't forget your fragile seed.

Dreams come through.

I did sight a dreamy face at twilight,
Who showed me a distant grace at twilight.

At the boulevard, blues did fade away,
Roseate is every place at twilight.

The smell of engines, the scents of delights,
Sweet fragrances leave a trace at twilight.

Here and there people roam around lovely,
There are many kinds of ways at twilight.

So many glowing faces and one sun,
Asking, watching is my gaze at twilight.

With a warm and cozy way of glowing,
I see many lovely plays at twilight.

Writing is the bard Mâhî at twilight,
Painting are the rosy rays at twilight.

The liar did say every kind of thing,
Sugar-coated talks, drunk it made the king.

Between the winter, between the autumn,
I saw the lovely summer and the spring.

Between the mockers, between the rulers,
At that gathering, a sweet voice did sing.

It is no love or lust; it's admiration,
For beauty and air a person does bring.

The bird of summer sings, teaches this place,
And Mâhî's near it; he's under its wing.

The pink waves of the sea,
Under the afternoon sun,
Do come and go
As memories,
So softly.

The rosy sands,
So thin and tender,
Do observe the flow of them,
As this poem does.

Upon the waves there's being surfed,
And at cafes delights are served,
While the orange sun shares a ray,
At the end of the glowing day.

A summertime sadness and glee,
Is played alongside of the sea,
Who is rosy, pink as the sky,
As the beautiful waves pass by.

Without a thought, they called me lame,
But they walked weird, without a shame.

The rosy hues become smoother after years,
And are still blossoming with juvenile airs.

Symphonies of the King of Pop are still played,
To this day on, now it even finely fares.

Spotting that girl in the streets at times of night,
The young fellow, a gift with his hand he shares.

The friends were made with a lot of love and glee,
What are the outcomes of those pretty affairs.

These lines adorned with rhymes are my merchandise,
Presented nicely at gleaming city squares.

He, the singer, tells a tale about a girl;
Mysterious airs and mysterious hairs.

Mâhî, you have narrated this many times,
Everyone knows perhaps your likes and your cares.

Aflame and burned, the world's so mad
With many things, while you're so glad
With little things of mighty grace,
So innocent, of nights and days.

The night's again on youthful minds,
As sunlight is upon the day,
Joining around with different kinds,
Making the world go round and play.
They revel much at sprightly nights,
With golden cups in silver hands,
Dancing as dazzling diamonds bright,
With tongues who no one understands.
Free is the joy who is held there,
As swirling leaves do fall on grounds,
Without a woe, without a care,
Yet they do make a lot of sounds.
  After night, when at last awake,
  They're welcomed by the one: headache.

Not much have I narrated this story,
Who's about glee and about worry.

I became quiet after seeing her,
This bluesy woe; o soul, this does vary.

We are the nightingales of this garden,
We are the poets, wielding poetry.

This crafted work is veiling prejudice,
I don't see the hands crafting embroidery.

Sometimes a love, sometimes a description,
Mâhî's drawing a gleamy gallery.

İnsanlarda bir adettir tebessüm,
Dar zamanlarda kuvvettir tebessüm.

Yakut dudaklar ile akşam üstü,
Şüpheli yerde rüşvettir tebessüm.

Taze taze bahar zamanlarda ki,
Sevenlere işarettir tebessüm.

Dediler ki hep; bir dilsiz dil vardır,
O dilsiz dilde evettir tebessüm.

Tanıdıklara ve yabancılara,
Ey Mâhî deme: "zahmettir tebessüm".

A gleamy shell of the ocean,
She is at day and the night.

Late I hear the sound of rain,
While having a thought in mind,
About the olden moments,
Who with charms look nice and kind.

Lit-cities are with lit-nights decorated,
And lit-nights are with lit-brights decorated.

Monster movies making a rampaging mess,
Full and filled with power and fights decorated.

Pretty memory lane is up my alley,
Nicely with bright neon-lights decorated.

The rosy pictures who're posted online are
With eyes, with glows and delights decorated.

The glittering billows of dusty smoke spreads
The haze, and are with sprites decorated.

The rain is falling on the streets,
Where every face the bazaar greets,
Reflecting brightly lantern lights,
At rainy days, at rainy nights.

It is a pretty place of gleams,
For traveling folks a place of dreams,
Scattered around with pretty themes,
To me from far away it seems.

The lantern light at chinatown,
Does shine at night, is on till dawn.

A tune of future funk does play,
Perhaps from a dreamy city.
A soft, a smooth voice does narrate,
Perhaps bout a gleamy city.

I do hear stories about much:
Before my eyes I see the lanes,
The cute couples walking around,
The neon-lights and falling rains.

The factories of shining films,
The sets of Hollywood,
Dividing worlds, combining worlds,
Do shape a certain mood.

When times are late and dark and still,
All kinds of scenes are seen,
Presenting many pretty sights,
Upon the silver screen.

The makeup's fresh and still not used,
To make up painted looks,
In rooms who are filled with powder,
Adorning clothes, adorning locks.

Sema oldu lacivert,
Sabah vakti olmadan,
Hava gibi olsun dert,
Sabah vakti olmadan!

Şehirleri gidelim,
Meydanları görelim,
Sokakları gezelim,
Sabah vakti olmadan!

Güzel güzel neşeler,
İkram eder geceler,
Duyulur hep nağmeler,
Sabah vakti olmadan!

With poetry I'm blessed -
Inspiration is guest -
Wandering around the world,
نام من جيحون است

Glitters on the bags at night do shimmer,
While the eyes with tiredness do glimmer.

I'm in love again, with joy and woe again,
To where it does go, I do not know again.

The tunes and glitters, of the night and of love,
With bitter-sweetness do come and go again.

It breezes with love so quietly to me,
Towards this lovely wind, I must blow again.

These fancies of love, the admiring eyes,
To me it breezed so unknown and slow again.

O Mâhî, the lady of glitters got you!
This, it looks like a romantic show again.

Damla damla geldi yağmurlar gibi,
Bir hafif yağıştan aldım bir ilham,
Şairim öyle de yazdım tabii,
Ve kelimeleri döktü hep kalem.

Dağılmış, yayılmış mis kokular hoş,
Ağaçlar yakarsan yanamaz ateş,
Boz bulutlar geldi, gelmedi güneş,
Bu bahar yağışı eder hep devam.

Böyle havalarda etmem şikayet,
O düşen inciler değil mi rahmet,
Akan yağmur bence güzel bir nimet,
Fikirler gibi havada gezer nem.

Böyle bir destan biraz başka olmuş,
Küçük yağışlar gibi kısa olmuş,
Bu sevimli inşallah sana olmuş,
Yağmurlu günlerde olsun sana şem.

Bir yağmurlu günde yazdım bir destan,
Ben böyle inşallah oldum bir ozan,
Boyle bir şiir görsün benim divan,
Okuyanlar duysun benden vesselam!

The neon nights did shine again,
At the place of Tokyo, really bright.
The girls did gleam with beautiful clothes,
The guys did glow with aflame fashion.

There were many mazes to be found at midnight,
In the city streets, sightly here.
''Midnight Pretenders'' was on tonight,
Breezing and blooming in the bright streets.

The pinky pearly view paced as
Raindrops as diamonds dancing in lights,
And fell fairly upon the shoes
Of gleamy girls glowing and adorned
With ribbons red and rosy hues.

Nobody at night slept, at the afternoon
Everyone woke up again after
Days of dozing off, and at dawn
They went away, towards their beds.

I do narrate a colored craft,
Like your embroidery,
Unlike a left unfinished draft,
To continue my sad story.

I'll give a letter meant for you,
Who's woven with a thread,
Without a touch but scent for you,
While still, will you then read?

So many kinds of colors here,
Upon the signs and breezing hair,
In cities 'round the nightly world,
Presenting bright the midnight air.

Characters on the signs, pretty,
Characters in the bright city
Do shine so sprightly for the world,
With charm, with joy, with love and glee.

Who talks about the sun at night,
When there is shining fun at night?

Sometimes a lively joy or woe in the world,
Sometimes as hidden clue or show in the world.

Pretty embroidery in a film of yore,
Is presented as a lithe glow in the world.

The sprightly rehearsals and laughing did go,
But moving pictures did not go in the world.

The breezes at the dawn are spread around soft,
In the cool morning did they blow in the world.

Mâhî, again a small gazel was written,
Who is softly sharing a glow in the world.

Drinkers of devilish drinks at times of night,
Are drinking nightly, behind bars imprisoned.

At night the mind's at rest,
While away from the rest.

I saw one night the shining neon brightly,
And hueful, pretty hair breezing so sprightly.
Reminded of a face around these places,
At crowded city squares who're going lightly.

Hiç bir yer kalmaz kuru,
Yaş olur topraklar,
Düşer Nisan yağmuru,
Düşer sarı yapraklar.
Döner yine bu Gülşen,
Hatırlatır zarafet,
Ve hayran kalırım ben,
Göklerden gelir rahmet.
Açılır sümbül ve gül,
Mevsimler yavaş geçer,
Lakin istemez gönül,
Bırakmamayı seçer.
  Gitti Hazan mevsimi,
  Gitti Nisan mevsimi.

Angel Grove shines summery with its bays,
In the winds each and every palm tree sways.

It is time to chill out after winter,
With moves and ways under the brightful rays.

At summery days shining in bright beams,
To the Youth Center there are many ways.

A long time ago or just previously,
The trends and fashions breeze throughout this place.

From colorful shows to glittering fights,
The river of Gihon saw here the plays.

At times of twilight, between day and night,
Is this city like a divided maze?

A pun, a pun, a pun I seek,
Throughout the voiceful days,
Upon the words, around the worlds,
The witty puns I chase.

At times at certain witty moods,
It is a piece of cake,
With witty cherries on the top,
I get or I do bake!

She is a moon upon the nights of cities,
Who glows and gives the gleamy lights of cities.
The 8-bit sounds do sing and neon-kanji
Is written, showing pretty sights of cities.

The moon's like a 'C', the strips like a 'I'
The bridge's like a 'T', the ways like a 'Y'.

There, the orange and shining sun,
Does shimmer on the sea,
Returning till the breezing dawn,
So things become nightly.

The streets and sights of the city,
Welcomed by nightly wind,
Become more slowly more pretty,
With neon light who's signed.

The rain does fall upon the street,
Of Flushing bright at night,
The place where grey concrete does meet
With crystal droplets bright.

Around the crowded corner late,
There're signs with neon lights,
With crowds who view, who conversate,
While longing for new sights.

Upon the lengthy crowded lane,
The people roam around,
While skies are pouring tender rain,
Along the city sound.

The signs describe the tasty foods,
So much and more to pick,
The nightly times do set some moods,
Attracting people quick.

I'm singing songs about this place,
At early twilight times,
About its sights, about its ways,
So happily with rhymes.

The olden buildings are combined,
With lights of bright neon,
Who're making pasts with now aligned,
Like the poet Gihon.

She's adoring the skies who're with colors aglow,
While alone at the dusk who's rosaceous and blue,
As a child she is looking politely with charms,
And again with a camera to capture the view.

You shift in shapes like poems change their feel,
Yet you are still remaining really real.

White gauzy smoke is blown through the lily,
Floating on air,
Fondling leaves and dewdrops who're glittery,
A view so rare.

On a picture elegance is enjoyed,
A Polaroid,
Presented in a silver-gallery,
Who's gloomy ne'er.

With gauzy threads from a silky cocoon,
White as the moon,
Lily-hands craft blooming embroidery,
With flowers there.

Like gossamers this elegance's tender,
Lit and slender,
Shining at the afternoon silvery,
Which does not flare.

O Mâhî, this form is a web of rhymes,
Who slowly chimes,
With threads we're finally stitching poetry,
Crafted with care.

Shimmering and glittery clothes,
Upon embroidery glows.
In shapes of roses and lilies,
When touched by sunbeams each one grows.

There is pleasure's sigh, there is despair's sigh,
Adorned with a sweet smile or a sour cry,
Screaming both in the night with no reply,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

All places of Tokyo change at night,
Streets are flowing rivers of gleamy light,
Lit-neon signs glowing at every sight,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

More footsteps have been set in these lit-streets,
Than the words have been said in these lit-streets,
Or the numbers of debt in these lit-streets,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Glamorous in the busy night like pearls,
Hostess girls show to men a sight like pearls,
With smiles and teeth who're white like pearls,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Girls who're shining like jewels are adored,
Who quickly by empty wallets get bored,
By the men who these sweet gems can afford,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

As long as bars shine with signs of neon,
The crowds in this city are going on,
Until they are put out at times of dawn,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Lights are reflected as blurs in each pool,
Who distort the sights like the alcohol,
Who is served in passionate bars as cool,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Water's flowing in the water business,
Who's to the old days a reminiscences,
Where the thin rules of the night are boundless,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Unlike the tradition of the flower,
Here they paint faces to take a powder,
And then embrace the ones with much power,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

The alcohol is poured down like the rain.
How hide drunkenness from whiskey and champagne,
They put powders on the face to look plain,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Adored, desired and loved is every star,
Who strolls around or drinks in every bar,
By each man with a luxuriant car,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Mâhî's still to Tokyo a stranger,
Both to its pleasure and to its danger,
Where the eyes at night only see a blur,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Poets and writers strife to be the best,
By offering the magic of words down,
While still narrating what's within their chest,
Trying to conquer Fame's and Glamour's crown.
But the verses and pearls who I do write,
Are neither for fame, neither for a name,
Only for preserving the lovely sight,
That's sometimes mundane or adorned with fame.
Because, how else could I preserve these things
That range from sorrow, from love to nature,
Other than placing them in my writings,
While feeling also a harmless pleasure?
  Let seekers dive in the rivers of ranks,
  And me enjoy along the riverbanks.

Something at twilight's silent time I heard this spring:
Finally the nightingale has returned this spring!

Last spring was a roller-coaster of love and hate,
I hope that that ride will not be concerned this spring.

Lovers melt the cage of the winter with dances,
I ask, who will be loved, who will be burned this spring?

The roses on cheeks and the roses in gardens,
Again slowly to crimoisy they turned this spring.

'O winter come, summer go! Spring come, autumn go!'
Said Gihon; for all kinds of things he yearned, this spring!

Once core of the Land of The Rising Sun,
Where the business of Emperors were done.

Over a thousand-years a capital,
Flourishing art and culture of people.

Most cities emerged from little bazaars,
From little candles to luminous stars.

But now a city of customs and calm,
Where all the fine-arts and culture blooms from.

Cities like these are filled with mystery,
Alluring folks from distance silently.

I didn't had to see your flowing eyes,
Who're from me far away,
To taste the taste of your sorrowful cries,
Who's stream is a long way.

O streets of cities! Have you drunk more tears
Of the miserable ones,
Than the pearls who are bestowed from out skies,
Every night, every day?

We thought we wouldn't cry in-front the smiles
Of sinister sirens,
Who are the witches of the night and lies,
Full of tricks and of play.

The thick haze of the room are not from smoke
Who are by sweet smiles blown,
But by the bitter mouth who exhales sighs,
Who're never blown away.

Mâhî, the singer laments his own fault
Into a wise lesson,
Didn't he tell you to be smart and wise
At cities where traps stay?