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Cafer Turaç


Writing On The River Bank


I want to write something again, new things that are not cursed

I want to write about the river’s daughter, her river kissing lips

My heart becomes a fugitive pigeon, harvest is a wind, it leaves golden

lights on my coat, I give myself to the city

And butterflies heavy with dew drops make face pale, sick girls, blind guards

Later, I watched mail-trains and the broken language of telephones

Good-bye my children, good-by my wife while I was asking them not to forget me

Our eyes become blurry, like the beloved’s photo threown on wet grass

Oh Child, oh daughter of the river, put forth your request, wound a heart.

Carry a basket of apricot-flowers to this aged sky.

(Translated by Mevlut Ceylan, 101Poems by 101Poets An Anthology of Turkish Poetry)