i bring you
this head,
full of breath-
taking beautiful
images of yourself
& put it in
your lap.
now i breathe
more quietly.
now you pat me.
now i sigh.
in a moment or two
i’ll get up and
be a man again.
poetry
Heartache by Cezmi Ersöz
Here we are alone again me and this pain within
again just you and I
put your hand in mine
shh! whatever you do don’t make me whine.
Oh my heartache deep within
put your hand in mine
let’s you and I find a way
not breathless in panic or shouting today
out of this deep dark forest echoing with howls. . .
My pain within, my heartache deep inside, oh you my love
here we are alone again
put your hand in mine
shh! whatever you do don’t make me whine. . .
translated by Jean Carpenter Efe
Sand by Gülten Akın
I had a beloved once
who sent me some sand from his hometown
I, however, always wondered about the wind of that kind
whether it was tamed crazy continuous
whether it appeared suddenly in the sky
hurling what it gathered from the ground
there were cities we later shared
the wind masterful I inexperienced
it swept by violently, came and went
filling my eyes with sand
translated by Suat Karantay
After the Rain by Cevat Çapan
This time
I brought with me
the chill of the streets
in which we once walked.
Your breath and gaze will be filled with
shadows of the eaves falling upon us
and the smell of sweet basil outside the windows
if you hold my hand.
At this crossroads
where everything is lost
and found again
when we are face to face with all that crowd
you will realize
the further
time takes you away from me
the closer
it draws me to you.
translated by Zeynep Bağcı & Suat Karantay
Desert by Cevat Çapan
Whenever
I sit at a table
to write something to you
I think of the tightrope performers
of my childhood and
all of a sudden
the pen in my hand
gets longer and longer
like that balance-stick
and I soon
unlike that masterful tightrope performer
more like an inexperienced clown
fall down into the void
and start jumping
in the bouncing net of dreams
Then
with the laughter
of my invisible spectators
I try to crawl
in a dry sea of tears
translated by Zeynep Bağcı & Suat Karantay
Equilibrium by Tuğrul Tanyol
here I wait at a juncture where the road goes on and on
the fear of falling within me
at those who meet and pass me by I look at those who come and pass me up
in mirrors I look at the deep dark tunnels
far behind me a train enters that tunnel of darkness
I only wait, for if I walk
oh, just like a skillful tightrope artist
how can I possibly have come this far
translated by Jean Carpenter Efe
A Hundred Days, Free to Go by Su Tung-p’o
A hundred days, free to go, and it’s almost spring;
for the years left, pleasure will be my chief concern.
Out the gate, I do a dance, wind blows my face;
our galloping horses race along as magpies cheer.
I face the wine cup and it’s all a dream,
pick up a poem brush, already inspired.
Why try to fix the blame for trouble past?
Years now I’ve stolen posts I never should have had.
*written on his release from prison
translated by Burton Watson
and for Valentine’s Day: Carrier Letter by Hart Crane
My hands have not touched water since your hands,–
No;–nor my lips freed laughter since ‘farewell’.
And with the day, distance again expands
Between us, voiceless as an uncoiled shell.
Yet,–much follows, much endures. . .Trust birds alone:
A dove’s wings clung to my heart last night
With surging gentleness; and the blue stone
Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.
another one for the day before Valentine’s Day: Touch by Octavio Paz
My hands
Open the curtains of your being
Clothe you in a further nudity
Uncover the bodies of your body
My hands
Invent another body for your body.
translated by Charles Tomlinson
for the day before Valentine’s Day: a madrigal by an anonymous Italian poet
My Love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her;
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty’s self she is
When all her robes are gone.
Leonard Durso 