so ghostly then the girl came in, i never saw the turnstile twist, down where the orchard trees begin, lost in a reverie of mist
and in the windless hour between the last of daylight and the night, when fields give up their ebbing green, and two bats interweave their flight.
i saw the turnstile glimmer pale just where the orchard trees begin but watching was of no avail, invisibly the girl came in.
so ghostly then the girl came in, i never saw the turnstile twist, down where the orchard trees begin, lost in a reverie of mist.
i took one deep breath of air and lifted up my heavy heart, it was not i who trembled there but my immortal counterpart.
i knew that she had come again, up from the orchard through the stile, without a sigh to tell me when, though i was watching all the while... (Serhat Yilanli)