At Fırst by Turgut Uyar

no one spoke it, perhaps only contemplated
because it exists in one’s life
exists like sleep and anger
no one spoke it
like the sun setting
in salty seas
I missed it too
even though my eyes
are in search of stains all day
I missed it, but one can say that
apart from the entire history of poetry
apart from all values plus or minus
apart from all things previously explained
as in the summer of the hottest countries
in the winter of all colds
I burn I get cold I feel awful
I am of no use
but I still love you
so then, love me too
yes.

translated by Omer Kursat

3 thoughts on “At Fırst by Turgut Uyar

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