EMPTY and PLEASANT

Do you think that

I took the pen in my hand again for you!..

No..! that was in the past…

For you now,

I will not write poems,

I will not put them in verse,

I will not draw pictures

Because,

My pen is empty,

My paper is empty,

My canvas is empty…

I no longer marvel at the redness of the evening sun

Behind the hill

Because,

The weather is nice,

The sun is nice,

Life is nice…

May 22, 1977
Istanbul