a glass of wine
an impromptu concert
old men on benches
grilling kebob
two dogs go swimming
a couple takes photos
spring is here
by the shore

water gently laps
against the hulls of boats
a gull floats by
on its way to heaven

sea breeze rustles my hair
friends share a laugh
on a bench
water, cold water
for sale
mussels & rice
on the half shell
skateboards & bikes
two men asleep
on the nearby grass
this stroll
soon a memory
of my life
in Kadiköy
filed away
with things
worth remembering
overshadowing things
to forget

pide and wine
a guitar a singer
dark eyes on my mind
there’ll be no sleep
this night
in kadiköy

hopscotch and football
barbecues on miniature grills
wood smoke in the eyes
kebab in the air
a young man dives into the water
drums beat out a rhythm
hands clap
a young girl dances
simits and cay
and I get the last bench left
in the shade
a whole neighborhood is here
along with portable toilets
spring on parade
in ancient Balat

Orioles chatter madly in trees of red blossoms
egrets converge on a lake of tall grass
everyone loves a clear mild day
boats return at dusk on waves of flutes and drums

translated by Red Pine

This time is difficult. Wait for me.
We will live it out vividly.
Give me your small hand:
we will rise and suffer,
we will feel, we will rejoice.

We are once more the pair
who live in bristling places,
in harsh nests in the rock.
This time is difficult. Wait for me
with a basket, with a shovel,
with your shoes and your clothes.

Now we need each other,
not only for the carnations’ sake,
not only to look for honey–
we need our hands
to wash with, to make fire.
So let our difficult time
stand up to infinity
with four hands and four eyes.

When your hands go out,
love, toward mine,
what do they bring me flying?
Why do they stop
at my mouth, suddenly,
why do I recognize them
as if then, before,
I had touched them,
as if before they existed
they had passed over
my forehead, my waist?

Their softness came
flying over time,
over the sea, over the smoke,
over the spring,
and when you placed
your hands on my chest,
I recognized those golden
dove wings,
I recognized that clay
and that color of wheat.

All the years of my life
I walked around looking for them.
I went up the stairs,
I crossed the roads,
trains carried me,
waters brought me,
and in the skin of the grapes
I thought I touched you.
The wood suddenly
brought me your touch,
the almond announced to me
your secret softness,
until your hands
closed on my chest
and there…

Of the many men who I am, who we are,
I can’t find a single one;
they disappear among my clothes,
they’ve left for another city.

When everything seems to be set
to show me off as intelligent,
the fool I always keep hidden
takes over all that I say.

At other times, I’m asleep
among distinguished people,
and when I look for my brave self,
a coward unknown to me
rushes to cover my skeleton
with a thousand fine excuses.

When a decent house catches fire,
instead of the fireman I summon,
an arsonist bursts on the scene,
and that’s me. What can I do?
What can I do to distinguish myself?
How can I pull myself together?

All the books I read
are full of dazzling heroes,
always sure of themselves.
I die with envy of them;
and in films full of wind and bullets,
I goggle at…

BRING a leaf to me
just a leaf just a
spring leaf, an
april leaf
just
come

Blue sky
never mind
Spring rain
never mind
Reach up and
take a leaf and
come
just come