THE SEA In my room by the seashore,I can tell without going to the windowThat the boats sailing outside Are carrying a cargo of watermelons. Just the way I used to.The sea likes to hold its mirrorAcross the ceiling of my room:It likes to make me angry. The smell of seaweedAnd the fishing-ground poles pulled ashoreRemind the children who live by the seaOf nothing at all.
-Orhan Veli
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