A swallow a puddle a piece of sky
They must have fallen off a poem.

Someone passing by thus said.

translated by Omer Kursat

I woke up three times loving you
I then changed the water in the vase
I could see a cloud that had taken off, drifting away.

Your face looked at if it fell off a part of the morning.

I paced the street the balcony and a half finished poem
I was bored I cooked for myself I dried herbs
I could hear a voice say “My Laurel!”

Your face was like the first days of the Republic.

I got up then walked up and down
Read poems, I reached the age of the poems
I felt your breath of clove gum on me.

I run through it over and over until only your beauty remains.

translated by Omer Kursat

Birds ascend from Hagia Irene
A stalk of grass behind their ears.

I tell myself that I am here finally
Here at this place, intersecting wth an old atlas.

A cat is gazing into your eyes
And the sky further below, as low as it can be.

And a woman trying to cross the street
I think of you and her incredibly thin neck that I do not see.

Peddlers, soldiers, knife sharpeners pass in front of me
And the sulky laborers of our world.

A voice says we are on the same peninsula
And vanishes down an old street of Pera.

I tread an old street of Pera like this every night
Every night with your mud on my soles.

translated by Omer Kursat