"Bosphorus beauties" Painting

Night slowly drags his black coat Steamers, logs now dropped, Ufuk is a bath photographic glass ... Mountains paint your lips with a pink feather On the bridge, eyes open with sorrow: Morning is the evening of suffering hearts ... A sandal waiting for work while stretching his arms, The first lights turn on, branch in the waters; The shores dream, in an awake sleep ... While the night resembles a moonlight, its endings More canes of ship lanterns It disappears in the water that slowly turns into lead ... Pillars dormant like rusty spears He waits for the imaginary war they will make one day, White seabirds mocking mockery ... The trembling water resembles a crumpled skin, The passenger of the first ferry from the down stairs, A tram wakes up the old bridge ...