My dear friend, my brother, my Anti,
You asked the other day,
“What’s happening over there?
How are you, what troubles do you face?”
I know you are curious,
that you truly value friendship.
I couldn’t answer then, I was too weighed down,
only now have I found the strength to compose myself.
I think of it often,
if only I had the means,
I would visit you there so much more.
If I had wings,
I would have flapped them and flown to you long ago.
Many winters have passed since we last met,
spring is arriving there now,
just as it is here.
Daisies and yellow blossoms are unfurling,
and anemones herald the return of life.
Everything around is cloaked in love,
I know how much you adore it,
and you know well,
both the spring itself and those who are passionate about it.
How beautiful it is to be a lover of spring
when the mimosas bloom,
they stir the heart with such delight.
In the deepest, harshest cold of winter,
they serve as harbingers of the coming spring.
Once you catch their scent,
dreams begin to blossom,
and hearts settle along the shores of the blue.
Here, each day grows worse than the last,
the days are dark,
and light seems nowhere to be found.
Jackals have surrounded us on all sides,
it is hard to even breathe,
with cruel ones lying in wait.
And then there is the poverty,
a state worse than death itself.
Earning one’s daily bread has become an impossible struggle,
the proud are left begging for a simple onion,
that humble staple, the crown jewel of the poor.
What a wretched time this is.
Existence cannot be measured by a crust of dry bread,
we yearn for life, let this river flow!
And a handful of hope, too,
come, sky-blue, settle into my palms,
and let birds sing out among the strings of my heart.
Such is our state
surely, one day,
nightingales will sing for us, too.
English Translation by Mesut Şenol