I woke up three times loving you
I then changed the water in the vase
I could see a cloud that had taken off, drifting away.

Your face looked at if it fell off a part of the morning.

I paced the street the balcony and a half finished poem
I was bored I cooked for myself I dried herbs
I could hear a voice say “My Laurel!”

Your face was like the first days of the Republic.

I got up then walked up and down
Read poems, I reached the age of the poems
I felt your breath of clove gum on me.

I run through it over and over until only your beauty remains.

translated by Omer Kursat