Old poems 1966-70

 A rainy day

A rainy day.
A quiet sea.
A woman and a man,
Walk and meet,
Talk and sleep.
And then go away.
All on a rainy day
By the sea


 Counting tears

The moon, beautiful moon
Time of the great red cycle
     (when it is full).
Sigh when the wind blows cold.
Cry when the wind blows hot.
When it freezes, such a beautiful death.
But is it worth it to cry?
Tears freeze in the cold.
You can save them
And count them over and over again.
For what?
People have spent a lifetime counting them.

Istanbul

There is a girl
Very pretty and quite sincere.

Every week
We ride together
Her and I
Side by Side

When she sees me
She waves and smiles
And I do the same

On the last ride
She cried
As she and I left the boat
Each into our own worlds
Both speaking a different language