11-11-1933 Bursa Prison My one and only! Your last letter says: "My head is throbbing, my heart is stunned!" You say: "If they hang you, if I lose you, I'll die!" You'll live, my dear-- my memory will vanish like black smoke in the wind. Of course you'll live, red-haired lady of my heart: in the twentieth century grief lasts at most a year.
Death-- a body swinging from a rope. My heart can't accept such a death. But you can bet if some poor gypsy's hairy black spidery hand slips a noose around my neck, they'll look in vain for fear in Nazim's blue eyes! In the twilight of my last morning I will see my friends and you, and I'll go to my grave regretting nothing but an unfinished song... My wife! Good-hearted, golden, eyes sweeter than honey--my bee! Why did I write you they want to hang me? The trial has hardly begun, and they don't just pluck a man's head like a turnip. Look, forget all this. If you have any money, buy me some flannel underwear: my sciatica is acting up again. And don't forget, a prisoner's wife must always think good thoughts.