You can make it to anywhere

It is never late for anything, yet

Dear child, forgive me

Brother Ahmet, you forgive me, too

If I look so destitute,

Not because I feel like it,

Not a bit

Oh dear brother Ahmet

Man resembles the place he lives

Resembles its water, its soil

The fish swimming in its sea

The flower pushing its soil

The foggy slope of its mountains and hills

Konya’s white and

Antep’s red plains

He resembles its sky in that his tears are blue

The sea in that his glances are rough

Houses, streets and corners

How much he resembles

And the dooryards

(His heart squeezed with a well curb)

And its sentences

(In a word, a trade over a pocket mirror, maybe)

And resembles someone’s asking for directions one day

His looking upset while asking and asking

A glass-maker’s cutting glass, and a carpenter’s holding a plane

Lighting a cigarette…