skies get cracked before they are folded and put in the chest
its roof falls away on its face
of the colorless portraits
without knowing its name
the dissident flower I cried for
my heart seems to be a waltz to the sound of the rain
a henna-haired child
setting bullets onto the play strings
before wrapping the night
on the body standing like geranium
two drops of tears on its cheek
turning into some season
the dial plate goes back to which century
who stops the pendulum of the sleep bird
i put a pigeon on guard
by distilling a cloud
from the desert with a cut head
and a planet
a fake prophet at its foot
its love is of a piece of paper
fear is nailed at its heart
English Translation by Mesut Şenol