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Your goings
Your comings
In either case
my heart
is beating

Seçkin Gündüz

A test for being drunk

A test for being drunk
A police officer pulls over this guy who had been weaving in and out of the lanes.

He goes up to the guy's window and says, "Sir, I need you to blow into this breathalyzer tube."

The man says, "Sorry officer I can't do that. I am an asthmatic. If I do that I'll have a really bad asthma attack."

Do you realize what I am?

Do you realize what I am?

A blonde was telling her priest a Pollock joke, when halfway through the priest interrupts her, "Don't you know I'm Polish?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," the blonde apologizes, "do you want me to start over and talk slower?"


If to a girl who loves us truly
Her mother gives instruction duly
In virtue, duty, and what not,--
And if she hearkens ne'er a jot,
But with fresh-strengthen'd longing flies
To meet our kiss that seems to burn,--
Caprice has just as much concerned
As love in her bold enterprise.

But if her mother can succeed
In gaining for her maxims heed,
And softening the girl's heart too,

Morning Lament

Morning Lament
Oh thou cruel deadly-lovely maiden,
Tell me what great sin have I committed,
That thou keep'st me to the rack thus fasten'd,
That thou hast thy solemn promise broken?
'Twas but yestere'en that thou with fondness
Press'd my hand, and these sweet accents murmured:
"Yes, I'll come, I'll come when morn approacheth,
Come, my friend, full surely to thy chamber."


The snow-flakes fall in showers,
The time is absent still,
When all Spring's beauteous flowers,
When all Spring's beauteous flowers
Our hearts with joy shall fill.

With lustre false and fleeting
The sun's bright rays are thrown;
The swallow's self is cheating:
The swallow's self is cheating,
And why? He comes alone!

Can I e'er feel delighted
Alone, though Spring is near?

Human feelings

Human feelings

AH, ye gods! ye great immortals
In the spacious heavens above us!
Would ye on this earth but give us
Steadfast minds and dauntless courage
We, oh kindly ones, would leave you
All your spacious heavens above us!



A room, blinds lowered, a candle on the floor
And on the floor a naked shirt vivified by its fear;
The shadows of nails on milk-white walls,
Now neither rustling nor sound of footfalls.
He lies flat in bed, all tall and long and dead,
Covered in a sheet pulled up to his head.
On the bed-clothes his toes leave their trace,



I'm in the street, in a street all lonely
Walking, walking and never looking back
At the point my path is mingled with the black
I seem to see a phantom wait for me

Ashen clouds overcast the darkling sky
Lightening bolts seek the chimneys of homes
In this midnight only two who sleepless roam
I here am one and there the sidewalks lie

Drop by drop a terror collects in me



The dead cry out from their cemeteries
Travelers! Sit here on our stones.
It is we who tipped them to the ground
We it was who thusly cast them down
Beware, don't ever jump off gravestones
The dead cry out from their cemeteries

Travelers, lay you down long upon the ground
Against our stones just rest your heads
Our stones are soft as feather pillows

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