Writing On The River Bank
I want to write something again, new things that are not cursed
I want to write about the rivers 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 beloveds 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)