With The Joy Of That Moment by Kemal Özer

With the joy of that moment, my love
that moment when our fingers intertwine
and when our breathing blends
like steam quivering in the mouth of a volcano

With the joy of that moment, my love, that moment
when we close our eyes–to let the uproar
from a strained wire, from the depths of a precipice
collect in ourselves

With the joy of that moment, that moment
when blue stars explode behind your eyelids
when a river of fire flows down a slope
later to gush into the sky

With the joy of that moment, my love
with the joy of that wet and burning moment
when we look at one another as if for the first time
and call our names, we must embrace everything, everything

as the first heralds of a fire.

translated by Suat Karantay

For Many Years. . . . by Kemal Özer

Perhaps the street I’ve gone into and come out of
for so many years will no longer look at my face
nor even remember my name. . .
the sky I carry over my head,
the table at which I have my meals, the bed that gives me haven,
the worries I can’t do away with
to all of them I should bid farewell
say good-bye to all of them at the dawn of this day.

And I should bid welcome my darling
with your face, hands, and voice
to all things that sparkle in my blood.

translated by Talat S. Halman