when the inner fire meets the outer fire (dışı seni, içi beni yakar)

I take this as a description of dream-formation, i.e. as meeting of fires

For the eyelids --whose structure the Gods devised as a safeguard for the vision,--when they are shut close, curb the power of the inner fire; which power dissipates and allays the inward motions, and upon their allaying quiet ensues; and when this quiet has become intense there falls upon us a sleep that is well-nigh dreamless; but when some greater motions are still left behind, according to their nature and the positions they occupy such and so great are the images they produce, which images are copied within and are remembered by the sleepers when they awake out of the dream. And it is no longer difficult to perceive the truth about the formation of images in mirrors and in bright and smooth surfaces of every kind. It is from the combination with each other of the inner and the outer fires, every time that they unite on the smooth surface and are variously deflected, that all such reflections necessarily result, owing to the fire of the reflected face coalescing with the fire of the vision on the smooth and bright surface.

Plato, (Timaeus, 45d-46b)

Ey Sözlerin Aslın Bilen

Ey sözlerin aslın bilen gel de bu söz nerden gelir
Söz aslını anlamayan sanır bu söz benden gelir

Söz kılar kayguyu şad söz kılar bilişi yad
Eğer horluk eğer izzet her kişiye sözden gelir

Söz karadan aktan değil yazıp okumaktan değil
Bu yürüyen halktan değil Hâlık avazından gelir

Ne elif okudum ne cim varlığından kelecim
Bilmeye yüzbin müneccim tâalüm n’ıldızdan gelir

Şu’le bize Ay’dan değil aşk eri bu soydan değil
Rızkımsa bu evden değil deryâ-yı ummandan gelir

Biz bir behâne arada ayrık de elden ne gele
Hak çün emir eyler cana bu keleci ondan gelir

YÛNUS bir derd ile âh et kahr evinde neyler rahat
Bu derde derman kefâret bir âh ile suzdan gelir   

Yunus Emre (1240?–1321?)

the whisper

"one needs to lose oneself, in order to find,"
whispered Hayyam to my ear.
one needs to leave,
in order to arrive.

you won't be ever coming back here,
back to now
don't lament your traces
time will erase them all

a rain drop made its way
to the seed underground
what seems dead and silent
can come alive to light

je rêve, moi, je ne suis pas

this was something I wrote down after watching the film Léolo, Leolo's words that remained with me, it is a beautiful little film with a big heart, by the Quebecois director Jean-Claude Lauzon whom I just learned passed away in a plane crash.

the little proud duck

oh little duck
you're so proud
of your bright colors
of dark green and brown
so proud little duck

oh little duck proud
splashing waters around
as you land on the surface
of the shallow little pond
so small is the pond

oh little proud duck
I've crossed the oceans
flied with albatrosses
swam along with the whales
I've seen the biggest storms on earth
I've been to the eyes of maelstroms

the duck, proud and little
how bright are your colors
under the sunlight
what would have become of them
if you had ever left the pond

I love these friends of mine

My friends have many mountains,
Many mountains that I can breathe in
My friends have many houses,
Many caves that I could choose to live in

Yeah, you're a friend of mine
I love these friends of mine

borrowed from Marianne Faithful's song

cloud

I am the cloud
on which
a dream has landed