It is nice to see your concern ,Yusuf. Just wanted to tell you that Boop was here on June 27th. And we have the thread "Missing persons at TC"

Thank you so much my dear Sibel!
I was reading this now and wanted to share with you

Darling, It's Frightening

Darling, it's frightening! When a poet loves
he might be an unshriven god enruptured.
And chaos creeps again up to the light,
as in the far off ages of the fossils.

His eyes weep tons of billows and he's swathed
in cloud, so that you'd take him for a mammoth.
He's out of date. He knows it's no more use.
His days are over now and he's illiterate.

He sees the way his neighbours hold their weddings,
how they get roaring drunk and sleep it off,
how they call common roe -- that pickled frogspawn, --
once she's been married off, the best pressed caviare.

And how they manage to squeeze in a snuff-box
life that is like a pearly dream by Watteau.
They take revenge on him; perhaps it's only
because, while they are twisting and contorting,

while sniggering bourgeois comfort lies and flatters
and they rub shoulders with the drones and crawl,
he's raised a girl like you from earth and used her,
like a Bacchante from her amphora.

And thawing of the Andes melts in kisses
and morning's on the steppe, beneath the dominion
of stars that fall in dust, as night goes stumbling
with bleat growing ever paler, through the village.

And round the straw bed's fevered pain breathe all
the exhalations of the ancient pit
and all the vestry's gloomy vegetation.
And chaos splashes up out of jungle.

Boris Pasternak

That's right, especially the rules of writing essays are in your favour "Your relationship as someone from another country with someone Turkish".
We all are looking forward to read that essay.
Good luck!!!

I read all the posts and sorry did not understand this Europian part.I feel Europian even live in America for 20 years.
OOOOOO, do not know maybe hot weather made thinking process slow , have to digest all you said here and maybe can come to conclusion then. See you soon, guys.
HomeSick, this is for you and your lovely wife
Don't let them get dry till she'll come home.

Hello and welcome back, we all glad to hear that the friendship will continue and you both are happy and fell for each other in "real life". I am very happy for both of you.
Think you can continue here till moderators tell otherwise.
Take care.

Back to track , friends.
This is all about Russian poetry.
I think we forgot about this and I want to remind to you.
I want to dedicate these poems to all my friends, especially to them who is in love with Russian poetry.
Did you miss our beloved Anna Akhmatova?

I Will Leave Your White House

I will leave your white house and tranquil garden.
Let life be empty and bright.
You, and only you, I shall glorify in my poems,
As a woman has never been able to do.
And you remember the beloved
For whose eyes you created this paradise,
But I deal in rare commodities --
I sell your love and tenderness.
****

The Lord Is Not Merciful

The Lord is not merciful to reapers and gardeners.
A ringing rain slants down
And wide cloaks are going to color
The sky reflected in the water.

There's an underwater kingdom of meadows and cornfields,
And undulating streams sing out, sing out,
On the swelling branches plums are bursting
And the flattened grasses rot.

And through the dense scrim of water
I see your dear face,
The hushed park, The Chinese Pavilion
And the circular porch of the house.
*****

He Whispers

He whispers: ' I'm not sorry
For loving you this way --
Either be mine alone
Or I will kill you.'
It buzzes around me like a gadfly,
Incessantly, day after day,
This same boring argument,
Your black jelousy.
Grief smothers -- but not fatally,
The wide wind dries my tears
And cheerfullness begins to soothe,
To smooth out this troubled heart.
*****

Ah You Thought

Ah -- you thought I'd be the type
You could forget,
And that praying and sobbing, I'd throw myself
Under the hooves of bay.

Or I would beg from the witches
Some kind of root in charmed water
And send you a terrible gift --
My intimate, scented handkerchief.

Damned if I will. Nither by glance nor by groan
Will I touch your cursed soul,
But I vow to you by the garden of angels,
By the miraculous icon I vow
And by the fiery passion of our nights --
I will never return to you.
*****

Instead Of Wisdom

Instead of wisdom -- experience, a flat,
Unsatisfying drink.
And there was youth -- like the Sunday prayer...
Could I ever forget it?

So many deserted roads walked
With him who was not dear to me,
So many bows I made in church
For him, who loved me...

I've become the most forgetful of all the forgetful,
Quietly the years sail by.
Those unkissed lips, unsmiling eyes
Will never return to me.
*****

Memory Of Love

Memory of love, you are painful!
I must sing and burn in your smoke,
But for others -- you're just a flame
To warm a cooling soul.

To warm a sated body,
They needed my tears...
For this, Lord, I sang,
For this I received love's communion!

Let me drink some kind of poison
That will make me mute,
And turn my infamous fame
Into radiant oblivion.
*****


ANNA AKHMATOVA

Today is Friday and I hope everyone is getting ready for the weekend, especially my American classy classmates(where are you Kelly, dear).
It will be a long weekend here and as you know we will celebrate Independence Day.
Happy Independence Day to all my American friends.
Wishing you a very happy and peaceful 4th of July.

Yes, that's right we do that here.It is very good custom to say Hello even to strangers and give them a smile. Some people think it is not genuine but I don't think so.
I had same experience 20 years ago and since that time the answer to the stranger's Hello is always positive and with huge smile like this

How interesting, Sophie.
That thought was with me for days.

I hope if you know this will be more comfortable with yourself.

Failure is an event, not a person.
Yesterday ended last night.

Again my beloved Zig Ziglar