If you were to come one late afternoon with your smiling scent,
And my weeping flowers turned to wine upon your burning lips,
If we gazed out at Istanbul like the meeting of winter and spring…
So my poem would not be left widowed and orphaned,
So the radiant day would not turn to autumn,
So I would not be startled from deep slumber like a heavy bullet…
If we spoke in our own voices,
And our arms embraced, our hands caressed
That unseen “us,”
With our smiles mingling together…
“Welcome”, why didn’t you come until now?
Where have you been?
Welcome,
Welcome.
English Translation by Mesut Şenol