Prelude
if i say “apple”, then i fear Eve might get offended
ancient shames which fold the night are produced
the chorus conductor would not free its mute soloist in no way
if i say “apple” then the nail of the world slides into the apple
a horrible arena comedy is lived through
everywhere including Spain
‘women known by their hands’ hide their hands
in depth, life which does not give away anything grins
where their steps are mixed is a puzzle
they are the women who make the world broader as their hearts shrink
all of them for sure have their wounds stirring
making their hearts bleed in quiet
Interlude
once i used to look in the mirrors
how many times a day
my face was not in the books/i used to like it
with pure water i used to enter the night
my knitting used to disrupt wild sleeps
once i used to smile as i look in the mirrors
i did not call on the season which pulls apart the sky
whomever did it on my behalf
/every curse is to return to its possessor/
let me say that i am content with the pain
the life i cut through sharp turns
whichever gift i presented to me
all of them in doubt
like the apple of the snow white princess
from that day on poison on my tongue
a murmuring crowd in my blood
in women how many storms break out
the world apprehends a silent silhouette
Main Part
a bird suffers a the “station for looking in the sky”
how much pain it memorized
how many drugs passed down by ancient women
do not suffice to revive its wings
red curse is running after it
weird geographies are its only acquaintance
pomegranate cracking on the stall of the night
how many of its teeth does it sharpen / life does not know
the world discharges its unconcerned dreams
as women fold, flattened world
leaves behind folded women for the cockcrow
oh! the rain not leaking out into the desert entertains who
at most it gets wet / dries out a handful of soil
as if it is probing into its lips with its tongue
pain is human it likes the human body when it settles there
this season the rain dries up everybody
the age of singing may well pass
love is always forgotten love is always forgotten
in the lands sucked by the rivers
tree roots go out for rain prayer
in fact a woman is enough to make the forest green
just as she single-handedly burns the demon
muted oh!s of those casualty women
all stations where you have a look in the sky are fine
ebb and tide passengers in the pendulum of hope
they get consoled a bit by saying ‘the future looks nice’
some mend their broken sides
whatever is there with their huge bodies examining the stations
they are supposed to be an effective medicine
an life… a jungle
grows strong as it is pruned
requiring new passengers
it desires that the laughter does not cease in its throat
it presents its ink ointment of the grasses
for the ones who do not worry about their wounds
Epilogue
after so much time i dedicated to its passages
if i get a secret to heal me as my share
i am not to give my gratitude to you
nor i will be doing it for your shabby fables
oh life
i could just have wrung your neck
had i not been caught
in the storm you stirred in a cup of water
Translated by Mesut Senol