It's you

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How young you are.
The most beautiful thing.
The soft, wet earth, which smells like grass.
A slope that steals my breath between the trees.
You come joyfully down to the sea,
you the low voice on the telephone,
you the news that comes to me.
You are the white and waiting page.
My world.
My struggle.
My peace.
 

Sensin by Egemen Berköz

Translated April 6, 2020

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