As famosas flores de sábado

Todo sábado as rosas brancas estão presentes na minha mesa esteja onde eu estiver...essa foto ficou com um ar nostálgico muito lindo.

E por ter esse ar nostálgico segue o poema mais lindo do Nazim Hikmet escrito pra sua esposa de dentro da prisão.

Uma das coisas mais sensíveis que li na vida. (Os parágrafos são desse jeito no poema original)

LETTER TO MY WIFE

33 - 11 - 11

Bursa

Prison

My only one!In your last letter

"My head aches

my heart is stunned!"

you say."

If they hang you,

if I lose you;"

you say;

"I can't live!"

You'll live my dearest wife,

like a black smoke in the wind my memory will vanish;

you'll live, the red-haired sister of my heartat most one year it lasts

in the twentieth century

the grief of death..

Deatha dead body swinging on a rope.

My heart doesn't accept

such a death..Butbe sure that, my love,if some pitiable gypsy's

hairy black spider like hand

slips the rope

around my neck,to see the fear in my blue eyes

they'll look in vain

at Nâzım!And I,in the twilight of my last morning,shall see my

friends and you,and carry only the griefof an unfinished song

to the soil...My wife!Good hearted,

golden coloured,

with eyes sweeter than honey, my bee;

why did I write you

that they want to hang me,

the trial is in the first stepand they don't pluck like a turnip

the head of a man.Come, forget them all.

These are so far away probabilities.

If you have some money

buy me a flannel underwear,

my sciatica is acting up.And don't forget that alwaysthere should be good thoughts in the mind of a prisoner's wife.

tr. by Fuat Engin