Stay here. In the noon courtyard.

Settle down at the simple language of time.

Take an interest in horizon-watching.

Experiment with the blue, the white, and the day.

Appreciate the oleander! Surprise me
by murmuring “It’s poison is the ointment
I apply to my skin.”

Try to translate
those feverish insects of August
and their sweaty songs into Turkish.

Learn the rather rich
styles of
washing the courtyard, pruning the vine,
walking barefoot.

Stay here. With the enduring time.
In the noon courtyard.

Absolve from your body. Strip
until you are your own self.

Pour refreshing water over your head.

Sleep soundly.

translated by Suat Karantay

jumpstart
my day
enrich
a conversation
stimulate
the night
anytime
all the time
my version
of Turkish Delight

I’ve lived in the country long enough to know its many joys.
I was starting to feel like a child back in my old village again,

and suddenly, leaving the city today, I leave all that dust behind:
turning to mountains and valleys, I feel them enter my eyes.

translated by David Hinton

How many years have you slept on the sea bottom!
Time has not passed in vain,
A rainbow of light flashing over your uneven shell
Glitters freely, suffused in coral pink.
A true pearl
Is not the perfect one.

Pearls cultivated on a production schedule
Have a regular, plump-eared surface.
A handful of them, all the same size,
Show off their brilliance encircling
Pretty wrists and necks; they are most perfect,
But they are not real pearls.

Nothing seems more like pearls than virtue does:
The truest probably don’t look the most beautiful,
The most beautiful probably aren’t the truest.
My heart and soul are always
Enchanted by the uneven pearl
Because it carries messages from the ocean
And owns a sincerity for which I yearn.

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

Sure
I’ve done wrong
because of the hang-ups of my heart
because I couldn’t grab
these beautiful mountains     these beautiful valleys
here      under sky
here on the earth

translated from the Quiche & French editions by Nathaniel Tarn

You have seen the blossoms among the leaves;
Tell me, how long will they stay?
Today they tremble before the hand that picks them;
Tomorrow they wait someone’s garden broom.
Wonderful is the bright heart of youth,
But with years it grows old.
Is the world not like these flowers?
Ruddy faces, how can they last?

translated  by Burton Watson