If a gust of wind blows open the door,
Like bad news it frightens me.
I look forlorn,
My stars shattered.
So painful, to possess to lose!
To love the mortal, so dreadful!
Life, a thread broken by a puff of air,
Blind alleys, departures without arrivals.
Necip Fazıl Kısakürek (1905-1983). Hayat. Translated from the Turkish.