Can every loss be a gain? In one of those days when the sky wasn't staring, after a day, before he could reach the morning chasing the night, when he hadn't yet shown his face behind the hills he would smile over the sun, the muezzins for the morning call to prayer hadn't even left for him ablution, he was gone long before the blind.
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In one of the days when the sky wasn't stealing, the last leaves of autumn had just left goodbye with its branches, while the sky was waiting at our door,
There was no time or time needed, when it was frozen, it was early too early, even early to say even early,
Sheets were falling from the calendar days, days weeks, months were chasing the phrase, the seasons were changing, cemreler set out and more recently had reached the soil of the cemre,
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He was smaller than the joy of every happiness, tiny, his joy grew, and when he was thinner than I was growing, he was just gone.
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