I unsheathe my words with caution
They stand to my conscience neutrally
No passageway except my conscience
My destiny is my own seed
I don’t have the names being non-existent in nature
Things always used by my tongue is my essence’s mirror
I seemed to have beaten my first enemies at my heart
There is no persistency of hatred in me.
My hopes are in the Bosphorus passion of a seagull
At the hungry glance of a cat
In the timid steps of silent mothers
On the stoop shoulder of an oppressed child
All my struggle is about not to touch even a tiny ordeal
You have your fights to surrender to win in return
My foot prints are on their way to become one
You have your hoe to wipe away the traces.
You are going to grasp it one day
The lightness of induction
The nothingness of a terrestrial victory
The virtue of the simurgh
The privacy of sagacity,
I have my transformations to win
I have my lines to shout
Virtue does not recognize sword blows.
English Translation by Mesut Şenol