-for an orange formation, I put flowers in a vase-
I am thinking of you when I am passing along the streets;
who am I, where did I come from? Ask not any name.

no sender’s name on the envelope when the postman brings you a letter
it may be forgotten.

-on the sand, in the deep waters, a little boat
that couldn’t escape from gales
may be wating to be saved-

but, what is the name of that boat? fom where did she come;
what was her colour and where was she sailing to?

what an unfurtunate voyage was this; lonely,
bewildered, and overturned on the steps of life.
let the clouds clear and open the way for the sun to shine,
let orange colour flowers fill our bosoms…

no one can stop or forbid weaving machines to use orange colour thread to make napkins, sheets and girdles

those who touch me and pass by
-gradually or rapidly we have all become alike-
where did you come from, where are you going to, do you have a name?

Translation: M. Kansu / S. Arifler