Inside by Ahmet Arif

INSIDE

Have you heard, stone wall?
Iron door, blind window,
My pillow, my bunk, my chair,
My hidden sad picture for which
I risk death again and again,
Have you heard?
My visitor brought green onions,
My cigarettes smell of cloves
Spring has come to the mountains of my land

Last updated on 13 July 1995 by A. Galip Ulsoy (ulsoy@umich.edu)