benim ağaç gibi olduğum halim

6 mayıs 1972

Denizler.

recovery

awareness

 I wished to be afloat,

you pushed me to the lake,

I found your 'self',

hauntingly fake.

"Oh, I know what 'pain' means; what I don't know is whether this, that I have now, is pain."

But isn't it absurd to say of a body that it has pain? -- And why does one feel absurdity in that? In what sense is it true that my hand does not feel pain, but in my hand?

just started

He's gonna come back.

boogie.and me.

eylül akşamı

"belki benim kağıt param, bir şekilde döne dolaşa, senin cebine girmiştir..olamaz mı? olabilir.."

the song and the woman of evermore.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PDmZnG8KsM

Paranoid.
Listening to him, I am paranoid,
I am just spontaneous..

missing 'vagabonds of the western world'

Urumeli..

"If one has to imagine someone else's pain on the model of one's own, this is none too easy a thing to do: for I have to imagine pain which I do not feel on the model of the pain which I do feel. That is, what I have to do is not simply to make a transition in imagination from one place of pain to another.."

"Pity, one may say, is a form of conviction that someone else is in pain."

"The impression that we wanted to deny something arises from our setting our faces against the picture of the 'inner process'. What we deny is that the picture of the inner process gives us the correct idea of the use of the word 'to remember'."

töz

bir nargile borusunun ucundan
bir evin bacasına doğru
gökyüzüne üflendim;
çözülüyorum,
dağılıyorum,
dağılıyorum,
çözülüyorum,
saçılıp zerrelerim
çarptıkça birbirine,
yanına,
suya geliyorum.


being blown into a waterpipe 
towards a chimney through the sky;
I'm dissolving,
coming apart,
coming apart,
dissolving;
so long as 
my particules are scattering,
beating each other,
I'm getting closer to you,
coming to the water.

how

I 

am

so cold

without

being

undercovered

under

a

cover

being

so cold

without

how

I

am

inner ballad

his words came before him,

he went before his words.

now, only words remain;

but nothing to do with a sick brain