O Lord, help me to be pure, but not yet.
They won't Know
by Rifat Ilgaz
What will I leave for the people left behind,
For my children,
For their children too?
More or less
My shared piece From Black Sea...
Five or ten acres of land from sky.
The things I want to give them when I was alive,
The things I couldn't give, fleeings, hidings caused.
I know for that reason
They wan't feel my absence,
It will be like I'm always alive for them
From a distance, a bit further.
They will say our father, our grandfather, never stayed still,
He never knew what trouble was, what worry was...
They won't know what I knew