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Translation
Mills/Windmills
Time falls down from my hands to the ground, then to the wooden balcony...
Clocks tick without permission, always to the afterwards.
Photos are yellow because of the lacking of sun light, emotions change.
Friends scatter to the four winds, to their own roads...
and you, me, against to the windmills... consciously, each - of as - a vanished warrior...
We flow into seas as rivers, maybe the finest way ever.. is this way...
The kite flies from my dictionary, -it's- a bird which is never gonna come back.
Unlived crumbs -are- only a dream.
maiaBülent Ortaçgil: Top 3
| 1. | Bu Su Hiç Durmaz |
| 2. | Eylül Akşamı |
| 3. | Olmalı mı olmamalı mı? |
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