An unknown evening hour
Of a station with an age-old platform, sadness
By my side, I knew no direction.
I had left you up there, in the sky
Dark were the trees and the road
Dark were your white clothes.
The night, that treasure, foreign stone
Your window was above the trees
No voice or iron can save me now.
Here I am in the hours
The hours are nowhere, no
Not in this direction, not in that.
I had left you up there, in the sky.
translated by Şehnaz Tahir-Gürçağlar
This reminds me of poems from W. S. Merwin’s book The Lice. Jarring and moving.
Reblogged this on Leonard Durso.