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  • Writer's pictureŞarkılara Mektuplar

The face of my songs

My songs have faces.

All the songs I listen to…

One has eyes that look with desire, the other has slightly curious honey-colored eyes and childlike lips that pretend to be serene.

For example, one has nostrils waiting for a single breath.

The face of a woman preparing for the evening in another.

The eyes are sparkling, the lips are on the ears.

Only the nostrils are open to good smells.

Ah, this Greek Song, hazel-eyed teardrops from beginning to end, almost always moist.

This Greek song is soft, warm.

The night begins with it.

Words want to come out of the lips; White wants to jump out of the lips hidden in gray beards.

They open with enthusiasm, they close stubbornly.

Words longing for freedom, they are imprisoned again.

Conservative owners, a bit tired as well.

Even this song that I don't like has a face.

She looks at me with wide-open eyes, surprised at her being unloved.

Every time I see the hands accompanying the lips parted in surprise.

In the same song there is also a face that misses the past, as if it has never aged.

There is a nose like a column on that face, breathing deeply.

He thinks it won't go unnoticed, but he looks with stray eyes.

Who knows what he remembers, what he misses.

It waits to be missed in other eyes, in another song, yet still shining...

All the songs I listen to these days have a face...

Banu Aksoylu

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