anı

sayfalarını çevirdiğim kitabın kokusu

bana başka bir kitabı anımsattı

başka bir kitabın kokusu

seninkini
sen

ve anımsamadığım hiçbir kitap kalmadı.

by wing shya

kutsanacak mı bedenim

beni sevenler sevmeyince

yanlızlık hiç bu kadar acıtmadı

bir kere olsun tut elimi

düşümde

ağlama ,gözyaşı hissizlik,this is my truth!

tearstears! tears! tears!
in the night, in solitude, tears
,on the white shore dripping, dripping, suck'd in by the sand,
tears, not a star shining, all dark and desolate,
moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head;
o who is that ghost? that form in the dark, with tears?
what shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch'd there on the sand?
streaming tears, sobbing tears, throes, choked with wild cries;
o storm, embodied, rising, careering with swift steps along the beach!
o wild and dismal night storm, with wind -o belching and desperate!
o shade so sedate and decorous by day, with calm countenance and regulated pace,
but away at night as you fly, none looking -o then the unloosen'd ocean,
of tears! tears! tears!