First silence descended, then that drenching sorrow
Time stinged inside me like a paper cut.
No matter which harbors this soul takes refuge in, the same wind always blows
What stands within me now is an abyss of which name I don’t know.
Truly, master, how many seasons would cause the absence of a person?
In which calendar is this endless drought written?
If I were to complain of my sorrow, there is no light left in my eyes.
A thousand-year-old wound in my heart, its name: Solitude.
You had a smile, like moonlight washing ashore
Now that light has faded, the seas are pitch black.
How can I cope with this sorrow, oh master of my heart?
Everywhere around me has become a foreign land, solitude at every stop
English Translation by Mesut Şenol