In the rush to hear something new,
the hourglasses emptied;
the world’s clamor fell silent.
Feelings that make me tremble within
longed to kiss the pupils of your eyes
without wounding the places they touched.
When all accounts are settled
and the ledgers closed,
my heart
flutters ceaselessly in my chest,
making my soul tremble in that moment.
Without turning away from another answer,
in the Hicazkâr mode
of the delicate pomegranate
waving goodbye to time
secretly,
passionately,
and flowing from a crimson wound,
everything takes on a new form.
The things I believe, different from yours,
urge the bud within my heart toward spring.
English Translation by Mesut Şenol