Thu, 05/06/2008 - 7:23pm — srfgrgl
ANGINA PECTORİS Half of my heart is here,though,The other half is in China,where in the army run towards the Yellowriver. Then,every sunset,doctor!Every sunset my heart is executed by shooting in Greece. Then,after all prisoners go to sleepAnd become deserted,My heart is in a ruined mansion in istanbul,doctor! Doctor!Fo ten years,The only thing I could treat to my poor people is an  apple which belongs to me,Only a red apple:my heart. Neither nicotine nor imprisonment,That’s why I’ve an angina pectoris,my doctor! I’m looking out of the bars at night,And,though the press on my chest,My heart is beating with the furthest star.                               İn april 1948                             Nazım Hikmet(After he,a turkish poet, served 13 years in prison for just his political opinion,he died in Russia by feeling homesick,on 3rd of june,1963.His  philosophy of life is that: “To live like a tree single and at liberty and brotherly like the trees of a forest”) İn commemoration of the events in Tiananmen Square,in june 1989
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