“You Are My DrunkennessYou are my drunkenness... I did not sober up, as if I can do that; I don't want to anyway. I have a headache, my knees are full of scars I am in mud all around I struggle to walk towards your hesitant light.”

“MY WOMAN My woman came with me as far as Brest,she got off the train and stayed on the platform,she grew smaller and smaller,she became a kernel of wheat in the infinite blue,then all I could see were the tracks. Then she called out from Poland, but I couldn't answer,I couldn't ask, "Where are you, my rose, where are you?""Come," she said, but I couldn't reach her,the train was going like it would never stop,I was choking with grief. Then patches of snow were rotting on sandy earth,and suddenly I knew my woman was watching :"Did you forget me," she asked, "did you forget me?"Spring marched with muddy bare feet on the sky. Then stars lighted on the telegraph wires,darkness dashed the train like rain,my woman stood under the telegraph poles,her heart pounding as if she were in my arms,the poles kept disappearing, she didn't move,the train was going like it would never stop,I was choking with grief. Then suddenly I knew I'd been on that train for years- I'm still amazed at how or why I knew it -and always singing the same great song of hope,I'm forever leaving the cities and women I love,and carrying my losses like wounds opening inside me,I'm getting closer, closer to somewhere.”

“Living is no laughing matter:You must take it seriously.So much so and to such a degreethat, for example, your hands tiedbehind your back,your back to the wallor else in a laboratoryin your white coat and safety glasses,you can die for people –even for people whose faces you’venever seen,even though you know livingis the most real, most beautifulthing.I mean, you must take living soseriouslythat even at seventy, for example, you’llplant olive trees –and not for your children, either,but because, although you fear death youdon’t believe it,because living, I mean, weighs heavier.- "On Living”

“THE GREAT HUMANITYThe great humanity is the deck-passenger on the ship third class on the train on foot on the causeway the great humanity.The great humanity goes to work at eight marries at twenty dies at forty the great humanity.Bread is enough for all except the great humanity rice the same sugar the same cloth the same books the same are enough for all except the great humanity.The great humanity has no shade on his soil no lamp on his road no glass on his windowbut the great humanity has hope you can't live without hope.”

“THE WEEPING WILLOWFlowing was the watershowing in its mirror the willow trees.The weeping willows in the water were washing their hair!Striking the willows with their sparkling, bare swordsthe red horsemen were running to where the sun sets!Suddenlylike a bird as if struck in the winga wounded horseman rolled down from his horse!He didn't shout,he did'nt call back those who go along,he just looked with brimming eyes at the shining horseshoes of departing riders!O what a pity! What a pity for him thatno more he shall lie on the foaming necks of galloping horses,no more he shall play his sword behind the white armies!The sounds of the horseshoes fades away slowly,the horsemen vanish at where the sun sets! Horsemen horsemen red horsemen,their horses winged with wind! Their horses winged with...Their horses winged...Their horses...Horse... Life has passed like the wind winged horsemen!The voice of the flowing water ceased.The shadows shadowed the colours wiped off.Black coverings came down over his blue eyes,the weeping willows hung down over his yellow hair!Weep not weeping willow weep not,in the mirror of the black water clasp not your hands! clasp not your hands! weep not!”

“Let's give the world to the children just for one daylike a balloon in bright and striking colours to play withlet them play singing among the starslet's give the world to the childrenlike a huge apple like a warm loaf of breadat least for one day let them have enoughlet's give the world to the childrenat least for one day let the world learn friendshipchildren will get the world from our handsthey'll plant immortal trees- "Let's Give the World to the Children”

“My only one!In your last letter "My head aches my heart is stunned!" you say."If they hang you, if I lose you;" you say; "I can't live!"You'll live my dearest wife, like a black smoke in the wind my memory will vanish;you'll live, the red-haired sister of my heartat most one year it lasts in the twentieth century the grief of death..Deatha dead body swinging on a rope.My heart doesn't accept such a death..Butbe sure that, my love,if some pitiable gypsy's hairy black spider like hand slips the rope around my neck,to see the fear in my blue eyes they'll look in vain at Nâzım!And I,in the twilight of my last morning,shall see my friends and you,and carry only the griefof an unfinished song to the soil...My wife!Good hearted,golden coloured,with eyes sweeter than honey, my bee;why did I write you that they want to hang me,the trial is in the first stepand they don't pluck like a turnip the head of a man.Come, forget them all.These are so far away probabilities.If you have some money buy me a flannel underwear,my sciatica is acting up.And don't forget that alwaysthere should be good thoughts in the mind of a prisoner's wife.”