Husnu Senlendirici Istanbul
Since İstanbul has been İstanbul; hasnt seen such agony. Dying of love, no trace of pride left in me. How bitter, bitter it is, selfdefeated man. No cure for betrayal yet, heart is a huge black hole. Nothing to do, heart it is, lost. New skin, new amusement also; I know. Need a southern wind, a paddle, a boat, few bottles of ruby wine stashed; red sky, red land. I curse at what came to past, so what it s a disgrace morning star, leftover of the night, falls over me.
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