Unfortunately this pleasure does not last long!
An overwhelming dark morning draws the poet in.
He is arrested and tried with his friends. Months pass; he is released for a while, then the breath of fascism on his neck. And the poet goes on his first journey towards a life of "voluntary" exile, which will last for years! Just like his other friends who were forbidden to live in his homeland. Towards his exile, which has become the common destiny of our people, with a bright head and a heart full of virtues...
The evening sun will fall over the Golden Horn. The smells of fish and wine overflowing under the bridge mix with the polluted waters of the Golden Horn. The shabby and lumpen breweries are a mess. Happy tourists and grieving lifelong diners are brewing at tables covered in white. In the blink of an eye, maybe a hundred cars pass one after another over the bridge. The bridge swayed imperceptibly with the creak of a cradle.
The sun falls like a huge pile of fire into the waters of the Golden Horn. Once the waters are on fire. Barges, motorboats and fishing boats pass through the burning waters.
Leaving his longing on the table like a dried flower, the poet dives into the crowd of people on the bridge. The color of the waters is getting darker. Street shores are shining. There are so many vendors around! What does unemployment make people sell? What works does he invent! First of all, young boys selling coins... Families, the elderly, the sick, children, who hope to earn their living from the earnings of four coins.