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A LETTER TO MY WOMAN; My darling, I should take your homeland eyes, your sunlit and spring-scented head in my arms and look at it for hours so that you can understand what I want to say. But on the other hand, I think I should write to you and not deprive you of the voice of my heart. After our separation, a strange taste remains on my palate. That's why my rose, when I write you a letter or talk on the phone, I become such a heartfelt child that I constantly want to be coy and whine. You are smoking in my eyes like blue smoke at the end of the sea in the sun. But instead of seeing you like such smoke, I really want to see your bare feet and really want to touch your tiny hands. Yet, you are in my city, with your flesh and bones and your red mouth and big eyes that I have been deprived of your honey. My ocean-hearted lover, don't let your heart wave. You are here, go and say hello to the day before the moonlight wakes up and I will get drunk like a sailboat in this beautiful ocean and hit the shores. I am tired my only one, I am tired, I passed through rotten waters, the swamp of lies and stupidity, without getting lost in the reeds as tall as a man. Let me be cleansed in your waters and rest. You see, on this journey I could not get enough of the grapes crushed by your white teeth, nor your bed that resembles a spring morning. Therefore, in the words of the poet, 'I am ready to die for you with the ease of a bird or to live a thousand years. ' My darling with small hands, if only I could bring you your eyeliner from the starry nights of Istanbul, if I could pin a pomegranate flower on your collar from the gardens of the Black Sea. Come to my room with all your stature tonight and enter inside. The New Year's dance is waiting for you. I have composed the poems of the greatest masters for you. Let me kiss your hands. Happy New Year, Volkan's woman.