When the flowers scold me and send me home, I bury my mind in the depths of the rivers. When my heart asks what the price of music is, I put pennies on the song of a street nomad singer. When rivers of blood flow relentlessly on the battlefield, I make bullets out of autumn snowdrops. When the clouds blow stones on the roof of my house, I name winter haiku as raindrops. When butterflies fly around my shadows, I mortgage my breath and buy candles. Like children building mud houses on the beach sand, I let the experience boats swim in the sea of memories stored in my mind. As I walk in front of the churches, I donate my umbrella to the Mariyal - Jesus who stands cross-legged in the sun. When I draw a rainbow on white paper, The nails I cut grow like roses. For squirrels playing in the middle of the tree branches, I am gifting fruits picked in my garden. When my life-like love letters are buried in my chest and cry, Lord removes the thorns that fill the tomb garden. Today I live alone in the course of time; I look at the face of my past in the mirror of old age. How many more pages am I going to flip through like this; It all makes me cry like endless waves. Each of the past tense is like a gold ring, That's Hidden within my old-fashioned diary. ***