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
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
from About Life: 1 by Arife Kalender
2 thoughts on “from About Life: 1 by Arife Kalender”
Old friends die. I don’t want to be last man standing.
I understand your comment too well.