Oh that innocent river!
My door opens to it;
The bushes need a path
with a fresh fragrance
draws my footsteps to its heart.
Who can put up with heavy footsteps?
Dear Fod, you gave me joyful youth
I looked, all the streets lead to
the innocent river.
Who can put up with
memory that opens like a taut rope?
Who can stand up against
footstep that attract rose-smelling dreams?
My door opens to an innocent river,
Children form a line on the banks
The road is illuminated
Theres o rose over there.
I add to the city
The taste of distance,
The first draft of a poem,
The joyful clarity of words.
(Translated by Mevlut Ceylan, 101Poems by 101Poets An Anthology of Turkish Poetry)