My Turkish friend put up a FB status about the hippie boutique she owns, and Facebook's translatometer has turned it into poetry:
"Stand up. Give me all your hands I want to hold it. I will take you upon green grasses. I will wash out your pale faces with sun. There's a black moon stuck in the trees. The trees are high. OUNG. They howl at night. We'll hold the sunlight in our palms. Bride. Stand up. Stretch out your hands."
@brucelawson I think you're taking the credit for the poetry away from her. It was probably already poetic because she chose to be, and not necessarily because it was in Turkish.
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