I can’t be excused even though trying hard, neither I couldn’t. Really, useless was the remorse. There are mistakes nobody can drink in to accept besides there are compromises task the imagination. There are constant predilections, there are taboos cannot be casted down, which cause a Chernobyl when they are demolished. Life forces us to make decisions, presents pathways. I can seem milksop for my bravery; what is bravery? Can we offer an excuse to the life? Are you my life?
Life hammers rigidly onto your stomach if you make a small mistake. The life pulls you into contradictions to prove its steamroller. Wiping something off the slate is harder than writing it. Erasing someone from my mind is so easy that I can’t do so and I don’t believe that someone did it to me. You are not strong enough that you can forget me. Still you like the sunset, persisting with the daylight. You believe the tale of a sliding star that is why you are the princess of my tales.
Making a decision is too hard, especially if it is multiple. Do you wonder how do I know…
I am sorry for deciding instead of you. This is the reason why you keep away from me, the reason why you breathe so easily is that I have my breath half.
Nothing is easier from losing what you have. Loosing hurts, loosing causes melancholy. It is always the autumn of lives. Everything has an equivalent except your touch and your eyes and deepness of your eyes and…
People throw the lessons of the past to the winds but the love doesn’t have a course, no one lives it actually. No one lets their eyes to speak and no one trusts their fellows.
The loves loose their soul like present day songs and the soul detective who is the only person can bring it back has already gone away from this desert.
You have trusted me moreover, you have believed in me moreover…
When you tell me “liar”, I tell you that I have never lied. It is true, I have never lied you before. Just I didn’t tell the whole story for not to lie to you and I always put the comma into the wrong place. Full stop is the only punctuation mark I couldn’t use.
I couldn’t explain my innocence even into my novels or couldn’t explain it into my poems or I did so but you didn’t believe in me.
I am growing and the open sores of my heart hurt me worse now. I don’t believe in love because I know what it means.
I got bored from people who think I am happy. How do they think that I am happy while knowing that I am a half-person? The worst of all is that my other half is buried into your heart.

BY: ERMAN AKPINAR
TRANSLATION: HÜSEYİN ÇETİN