Intrigue Table

intrigue Dimensions: • 105x150 cm • 125x178 cm With Inspiration and Respect: Ah, time... Delicate, as if covering someone who has just died, like a rose waiting to be plucked in every moment. The silence of the seas, the resistance of women, the geraniums mingling with the crowd... Everyone, everything is ready to drop their name somewhere. With infinite respect for life and verses... Oh, how time passes delicate, as if covering someone who has just died, It can be plucked like a rose in the afternoon everywhere The sea fainted between the woman arguing with the police Why shouldn't every sea have a mother? Rich as one hand getting pregnant with the other and Sardinia, who took the Beşiktaş minibus from Taksim Every man can drop his name somewhere This poem should be read as it is written If this life is to be lived as it is known, So what I call sadness is just a blasphemy And as much as blasphemy suits the mouth of a clove Draw a thick, red line under love Under the gaze, betrayals, suicides! Then stand in front of them and be a little surprised that is, the one who ran to the truck that rolled into the abyss Peasant children When you find a clown behind the wheel how he is surprised like a pomegranate! Oh, how time passes Despite the love born out of breath I wish we had discovered something And he immediately turns onto the cemetery road I could die all night without sleeping Anyone can cry all night A translucent color that can make you forget an ex-lover and the shattering of a glass by exploding An ex-lover out of the blue It can even remind you cruelly! So what I call dear is just a joke Besides, how much longer can one laugh at a joke! (Ox 53, October 1998) Alexander the Little (Derman İskender Över) * Intrigue Dimensions: • 105x150 cm • 125x178 cm With Inspiration and Respect: Oh, time... Delicate as if covering the freshly deceased, a rose waiting to be plucked in every sunset. The silence of the seas, the resilience of women, the blending of geraniums into the crowd... Everything and everyone is ready to drop their name somewhere. With infinite respect for life and verses... Ah, how time passes delicate as if covering the freshly deceased, plucked like a rose in every sunset the sea fainting between the woman arguing with the police why shouldn't every sea have a mother too as rich as a hand impregnating another hand and the geranium boarding the dolmus from Taksim to Beşiktaş any man can drop his name somewhere this poem should be read as it is written if this life will be lived as it is known, that is, sorrow I say is merely a curse and a curse suits a carnation's mouth as much as a thick, red line suits love, eyes, betrayals, and suicides too! then stand before them and be surprised for a bit like village children running toward a truck falling into a cliff finding a clown behind the wheel how pomegranate-like their astonishment! ah, how time passes despite the love born breathlessly one wishes we could discover something and immediately turns toward the cemetery road I can die without sleeping all night anyone can cry all night a transparent color can make one forget an old lover and the sudden, even cruel shattering of glass can suddenly remind one of an old lover! that is, what I call a lover is merely a joke and how much longer can one laugh at a joke! (Ox 53, October 1998) Little Alexander (Derman İskender Över)