Within life, man is alone
Life, a noose wound around my neck
The past in memory; what, then, is time?
A heavy quilt that covers the truth
Years upon years, as if a single instant
What lingers in memory, a lie once lived
So-and-so upon so-and-so, this and that
Time, which lays waste to life
Let life not be a packsaddle on my back
What is needed is tears in prostration
Since I have feeling, O Creator,
Gratitude upon gratitude, a thousandfold gratitude
Beşiktaş, 1985