Birds ascend from Hagia Irene
A stalk of grass behind their ears.

I tell myself that I am here finally
Here at this place, intersecting wth an old atlas.

A cat is gazing into your eyes
And the sky further below, as low as it can be.

And a woman trying to cross the street
I think of you and her incredibly thin neck that I do not see.

Peddlers, soldiers, knife sharpeners pass in front of me
And the sulky laborers of our world.

A voice says we are on the same peninsula
And vanishes down an old street of Pera.

I tread an old street of Pera like this every night
Every night with your mud on my soles.

translated by Omer Kursat