Having collected some memories,
the blues of Al-Magrib,
I settle.
Having lost a tempest,
I salt.
Having discarded some winds,
I swoon.
The city, metal noised and smoked, is muted
with my thoughts.
And the faces of old women
with eyes of changing colours
sit in their windows,
a sea passes them
slow.
Bazı hatıralar toplamışken,
Magribin mavisi,
yerleşirim.
Bir fırtınayı kaybetmi ...