Poems by Nazim Hikmet

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You waste the attention of your eyes,
Taut, thick fingers punch
I have no silver-saddled horse to ride,
If half my heart is here, doctor,
I was born in 1902
The knight of immortal youth
to the memory of my friend SI-YA-U,
The hair falling on your forehead
I stand in the advancing light,
Comrades, if I don't live to see the day
Look at the lion in the iron cage,
as a child he never plucked the wings off flies
Our eyes
Sometimes, I, too, tell the ah's
If instead of being hanged by the neck
You're like a scorpion, my brother,
it's 1962 March 28th
Today is Sunday.