bury my joy into the playground
my folk songs
on the brink of suicide
do not pay attention
you old city walls
so long ago
we have left at every roadblock
known
unidentified
and familiar faces
from the border lights
they rain like quarter of hope
retaliation for this homeland
moon hid herself behind the jasmine scent.

Günsel Djemal Elüstün 31/12/2014