The sun
Among the quivering leaves
in silence touched my face
Joined me for tea, we lit a cigarette
Two old friends . . .

I sift the days
With a sieve in my hand
On it
Days that will never be re-lived
At the same place and hour . . .

Does living mean getting older, for
it is secretly prevading my wrinkles . . .

translated by Mukadder Aykırı & Suat Karantay