Edmund Spenser

[One day I wrote her name upon the strand]

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize!
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eek my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name;
Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.

thanks for the poem

I am bound to you, you can't know
I am bound to you, you can't know
I am keeping your name in my mind like a nail
Your eyes are growing and growing
I am bound to you, you can't know
I am warming my self with you

The three's are getting prepared for the autumn
Is this city is that old istanbul?
The clouds are breaking up
street lambs are lighting instantly
I am bound to you, you're not here

Loving is sometimes vilely fearful
Human gets tired unexpectedly at a darkening day
because of living as a captive, at the mouth of a razor
sometimes the passion of it breaks your hands
removes a few lives from it's life
sometimes, which ever door it knocks
there is a naughty hum of the loniless waiting inside

A poor gramophone is playing in Fatih
playing a friday from the old times
let me stop and listen at a corner uninterruptedly
what if i bring you an unused sky
the weeks are breaking to pieces in my hands
what ever i do, what ever i hold, where ever i go
i am bound to you, you're not here

maybe you're the blue dotted kid in June
No one knows you, ah, no one
a freightier is floating from your deserted eyes
maybe you're getting on a plane at Yesilkoy
maybe you're wet, chilling
maybe you're blind, the wind is playing with your hair

when ever i think of a life
it's hard mayhaps, in this table of wolves
shameless, but without dirting our hands
when ever i think of a life
i'm starting with your name, after saying hush
***İçim sıra kımıldıyor gizli denizlerin ***
i am bound to you, you can't know

Atilla İlhan

Thanks for this nice poem..

Shakespeare

I am afraid..

You say that you love rain,
but you open your umbrella when it rains...
You say that you love the sun,
but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines...
You say that you love the wind,
but you close your windows when wind blows...
This is why I am afraid;
You say that you love me too...

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LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree --
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most contantly?

The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who wil call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.

By Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi  

What the sayer of praise is really praising is
himself, by saying implicitly,
"My eyes are clear."

Likewise, someone who criticizes is criticizing
himself, saying implicitly, "I can't see very well
with my eyes so inflamed."

Don't ever feel sorry for someone
who wants to be the sun, that other son,
the one that makes rotten things fresh.

And don't ever envy someone
who wants to be this world.

TRUE SPEECH IS THE FRUIT OF NOT SPEAKING
                                                                         BY YUNUS EMRE
True speech is the fruit of not speaking.
Too much talking clouds the heart.

If you want to clear the heart,
say this much, the essence of all talking:

Speak truly. God speaks through words truly spoken.
Falsity ends in pain.

Unless you witness all of creation in a single glance,
you're in sin even with all your religion.

The explanation of the Law is this:
The Law is a ship. Truth is her ocean.

No matter how strong the wood,
the sea can smash the ship.

The secret is this:
A "saint" of religion may in reality be an unbeliever.

We will master this science and read this book of love.
God instructs. Love is His school.

Since the glance of the saints fell on poor Yunus
nothing has been a misfortune.