The Wild Slang Of The Heart
You were a child, you were yet to bring
The untidy voice of your scattered words
Into the wholeness of light.
This is what perhaps drove you,
Leaving your shadow behind like a blue cover,
To walk into pictures taken by willows.
And you felt in your bruised eyes
Lime-trees, warm as prophets.
Thus started the long flowing
Of that first,
It was poetry in a way:
The wild slang of the heart
It was frienship in a way,
It could feel
The lute, drop by drop,
In the pebble.
(Translated by Feyyaz Kayacan Fergar, 101Poems by 101Poets An Anthology of Turkish Poetry)