Bilgi paylaştıkça çoğalır

As I embrace the sun of a newly-woken, tired morning, I time a tearful pulse to life…
I dose off to love on the third storey of an apartment block…
The city I breathe becomes a body that suddenly spreads it’s roots around my dance…
As I step into a long journey, as naive and fragile as the parting of the bosphorus…
While entangling unto your fringe, a slow and steady posture…
Quietly it goes, the light bodied Osmanbey Metro…
It is unknown, the Black Sea has become my season…
Don’t uncover your shoulder, woman; I’m at a higher place tonight…
Don’t make Istanbul cry while your sorrow is heavy; this Karaköy is so fragile, you’ll be crying to the sound of the ferry…
Your hair on my pillow, while your hair on my pillow hides itself, we will but waste away…
Our last dregs were carrying the marks of a life with an old porch, we have been defiled…
You, who embraced my hatred yet couldn’t touch…
Don’t uncover your shoulder, woman; I’m at a higher place tonight…
I place my chalice on the table, doomed to defile.
Pain fills up my lungs, I can’t restrain.
From my most vulnerable place, from the greatest murder it kisses softly…
Don’t uncover your shoulder, woman; I’m at a higher place tonight…

By Mert Caner

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