This text has been automatically translated from Turkish. Show Original
REPROOF
In the middle of my life path,
My leaves are turning yellow now.
Those who know me say, 'You have a nice story.'
Is my story really beautiful?
Inside is me, outside is you...
When you pass away from this land one day,
My story will have no meaning or importance.
So, why so much pain?
For a life that will fade away?
And why does one bleed every day?
The wounds that are about to close?
Does he take pleasure in suffering?
Or does he think that life would be worthless without pain?
It's an unknown vicious circle!
Days pass,
I too am passing through it slowly.
Knowing that 'the other day is gone from life'.