only if the knocking sound on my door, in the middle
of the nights was produced by the silver of your
bangles, jaana and not by the iron of their guns,

how beautiful the nights in my homeland would
have been.

-

What terrifies my heart more than the sound of sirens is the sound
of your footsteps when you walk away from me, my love.

-

For God's sake, someone please come and take my eyes,
And hang them to her neighbour's window
that faces her house.

-

If she Promises to wipe it's tears with her scraf, even a desert would cry out a thousand seas.

-

Our true history lies in the literature of our lanes

-

The ink in my poetry smells half like Vincent's paint and half like her nail polish.

-

Not even Autumn would dare to wither the flowers she sticks in my hair.

-

My poems bloom in Autumn and wither in spring- that's it.

-

Had people sent me flowers everytime i died
in your memory,

Every spring would have been deserted and all the flowers would be lying over my tombstone.

-

My Noor, how do i metaphorize the beauty of
your eyes in my poems,

for metaphors in my land are born out of the exploading shells of grenades not the petals of flowers.

-