There will be a day when my love for you will be taught at school in the children’s copy books stars will be justified the poverty of success and the richness of pain You the blood for the thorn, you the kiss for the burn If only I were a hero, I would put my
For some time now i cannot sleep, i turn around on my bed until the vertigo lifts my dreams from deep down My agony tonight as well is heavier that darkness but still i am not waiting for dawn, it is not time for light yet but still i am waiting for the stars
Today, you’re back again, desire, suggesting I should put on another of your fantastic garments. I clothe myself in the forms of your desire, which is my own. You know, you attract me, and you don’t let up: concerts, exhibitions, books; films, trips to the theatre… We lose ourselves together in the heavens of your
Glance of a journey from out of a cell, shelter of the warm darkness, rift in the moss that’s watered with the dew of the breath. Foliage of beliefs. Rainbow of longing that unites the pollen of freedom. Oh, the bridge of one’s own experience over which the sleeping child crosses the red shadow
Think, I do not say “dream” Thinking is real, dreaming is fantasy I speak not from a dream, but from paper A rowboat struggles in the still sea Think, I do not say “let fall” Whoever they may be, let the child within you remain I see no one else but them Their hands
I donned this body on January 1st, ’76 When the time comes, I shall cast it off When all things end, I shall wear my garment once more I shall become a pearl! I shall become a pearl! I did not come into being with my birth Nor shall I cease to exist upon
At forty, I have reached my mother’s sixty-third year I adopted the pride of a tiger, a motherhood without a child I mistook the word for myself, the fault lies with my father I took everyone for a poet, hence this foolishness For one who wishes to live, every place in the world is
POETS MAKE NO MOTHERS Read More »
I began life with poetry. I was born as a word into my father’s life of paper. Poetry taught me happiness. A happy person is a kite. I began myself with poetry. It is the words that grow, not I. Poetry taught me goodness. My goodness is my unhappiness. I began to love with poetry.
MY POETRY: JUST LIKE ME! Read More »
A tribute to Can Yücel In her eyes, I was a lost cause from the start My father was fear to me, my mother, a soothing balm I was her favorite son, or so it always seemed to me It was from her I first heard those long tales of the hunt In life,
IN LIFE, I LOVED MY MOTHER MOST OF ALL Read More »
As I look at myself, I find a definition The Nile’s place in Africa is vast, of course I rejoice that this discovery is mine Just as I say, “Oh, the war is over!” – for such is my nature I encounter my name in the memory of a sword The novice photographer finds me
Africa Pours into the Nile Read More »
