What a beautiful thing to remember you:
From the News of Death and Glory,
In
And my age is past the countryside…
What a beautiful thing to remember you:
The hand that was forgotten on a blue fabric
and hair
Vakur softness of Istanbul soil…
He's like a second person inside me.
I love you…
The scent of the finger on the end of the fingers leaves the yellow
A sunny comfort
And the invitation of the Flesh:
Split with Crimson Lines
Hot dark dark…
What a beautiful thing to remember you,
Write About You,
To sleep on your back in prison and think of you:
The day or the other, the word you said,
Not himself
The world…
What a beautiful thing to remember.
I have to carve you something from the board again:
A drawer
A ring,
And I'm three feet thin, silk-knit.
and immediately
Out of my place
By sticking to the iron in my window
To the milky white blue of Hormuz
I must read what I wrote to you…
What a beautiful thing to remember you:
In the News of Death and Glory,
In
And my age is past the countryside…
Poet: Nazim Hikmet