i am in love with the strength of your hands,
your creating transparently the pitcher then my eyes…
your rubbing your whiteness on the waves
your laughter in the depths, water moves on their faces of the stones
billion years old greeting’s inclination towards mussel pieces
making her heart by the sea and in the city open and secretive
everywhere in evidence,
roaring with love and resistance in birds, soil and foliage
are you a wild apricot tree in bloom or not
are you a moss playing with the sun with willpower
precise justice in the ice sits in you, which cracks our constipation in the dead of winter
our fight for the might of your hands
for your assembling days and roses
your filing pebbles,
the line of the pencil drawing circles on the trees
to the glory of the words giving the mind the idea of resistance
to the justice for the wounds’ successor of blood spilling from the mountains where the water finds an incline
with a balance of which efforts are lighter than an ant and heavier than stars
with the same adequate seriousness to focus on a child and insects
blooming, separating, congregating at the tips
our fight for your sun, for your sun our hands
to believe in the warming snow’s evolution
the hope of a fallen leaf on your hand
to dazzle while mourning on the bulkhead
to carry onto your hands a depth transforming in the spoon
and as nature propagating you via day light
and as the sea was hitting the land with something from you
and as the soil was raging full of color
through a blue road open to the sky
here, in this way
to might and beauty
of your hands attaching the atom with a star
Translated by Mesut Senol