The Last Century of the Harem

Man is Short

My grandmother used to say: People are short, son.

and ignores its shortness, if only it knew

He wouldn't race with roads, he wouldn't raise houses to the sky,

My grandma Nazlı didn't mince words or insist.

He spoke little, he spoke softly, he also spoke loudly.

The worst of man is infantry, more than words is poetry

He used to say they would, he saw that I was an infantryman and that I wrote poetry,

She was a little grandmother, I realized when I lost her

Everything is short, man is shorter than the tree, the afternoon,

from apples, sun, snow, rain,

Even our shadow is longer than us, what about childhood?

It turns out that he was shorter than his dream too, as if he were six siblings.

Maybe if we dreamed in turns, a childhood from all of us

He used to sing the folk song "This world is a window"

We wouldn't understand, we got used to this world, now it's hard

Leaving this world, sometimes it comes to my dreams, it's short

It stays as long as a smile, says "don't take too long"

“No one will understand poetry and your life will not be extended because of it.”

People grow with their mistakes, I thought love was tall

I understood but when, love was shorter than its letters,

Sometimes it takes time to write, sometimes it takes time

saving love from the forest within us, love is short, poetry is long,

For example, even if a tree disappears, the forest is still a forest,

What if one letter is lost, how many letters are there in a person anyway?

(From the Promotional Bulletin)

Dough Type: 2nd Dough

Size: 13.5 x 19.5

First Print Year: 2017

Number of Printings: 2nd Edition