emrahkucukalis Blog This WordPress.com site is the bees knees
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Table de noyer oubliant le temps. Traces de doigts que nettoie la poussière. Boîte à lettres à la serrure rouillée. Maison Morte Maison Morte Maison Morte. Ne peut me faire retourner dans cette maison. Chacun lui a confié son horloge. Chacune indiquait une heure différente. Un Fils de la mer Fils-mer.
I remember that he used to wear white boxers, and where. His papers, scattered around the house, and indeed, his boxers. He should have left something for me as a souvenir. I chose this typewriter myself that day, 50s, A-keyboard,. Keys hardly shift, some characters appear crooked. My feet abandon me lik.
POESIA - MEHMET YASHIN - 1978-99. IL BAMBINO E IL SUO ALBERO. Albero della poesia che fiorisci in ogni clima. Permettimi di arrampicarmi sui tuoi rami. Resta dove sei, bambino, cadrai! Se mi arrampico, devo farlo adesso. I rami lì in alto son sottili. O raggiungo le tue foglie più verdi. Il CANTO DEL MIO AMATO. Il mare era il canto del mio amato. Il grano era il canto del mio amato.
Friday, January 8, 2010. HET KIND EN ZIJN BOOM. Boom van poëzie, bloeiend in alle seizoenen,. Sta mij toe dat ik op je takken klim. Blijf zitten, kind! Als ik klim, klim ik nu. De onbesuisdheid van mijn jeugd nog niet verloren. De bovenste takken zijn heel broos. Ik reik naar je groenste blad. Op zondag gaat de generaal naar zee. Op zondag bouwt de generaal een kasteel op het strand. Lustig spittend in het zand.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010. AND LANGUAGE IN MEHMET YASHIN. Most of the Phoenician inscribers.