His very close and beloved friend, Fikret Mualla, wanted to paint a portrait of him while they were in a mental hospital together, and Neyzen accepted the offer on one condition:
"If I die before you, Fikret, bless my death with raki. But not with such an ordinary raki. For example, a picture worthy of a truck that’s full of raki money, exchange it for a bottle of raki only. 20,000, 50,000 worth raki but just one bottle... Then take a big sip from it and pour the rest into mother earth!"
Neyzen is a true wrecked poet. I'm sure no one in this field has ever felt as close to humanity's deep and earthly misery as Neyzen. He should not be deceived by his wrecked apparent. By condemning himself with such a dress, he wears the armor that protects him from the fate of “Hallac-i Mansur”.
What wasn't said about him; drunk, tipsy, vagrant, wretched... No word, not even this article itself, can come close to identifying Neyzen. Do those in such a creation fit in a mold? Does he give in to worldly fears by accounts of interests? Honesty as much as money and shame as much as fame would be just a matter of indifference to him. There are many people who describe themselves in this way, but there are very few who stick to this definition for all their lifetimes. Everything from the stars in the sky to the mud on the earth is his dough. when he wants, he is a star flowing from the sky to the earth or the mud gushing from the earth. Fortunately, those who understand Neyzen from the heart and the truth are "confrontationist" and sincere.