my mom waiting at the windows, o’ kids to come
expecting, on her lap flower swishing
inciting her kids for a journey with a ceaseless patience
soon she will go on dying between the bathroom and the hallway
there is no time she’s waiting, and on her lap no flower swishing
my mom waiting, and good evening to a neighbor
clouds rolling by between yakacık and islands
her husband’s spirit is also on the window – first time that close
trying to touch it in between the two of the loneliness
yellow night waiting, and on her lap flower swishing
my mom waiting, and birds in the suburbia of gümüşpınar
last concerto, on her lap flower swishing
limitless love brings her close to her sons and daughter
soon she will go on falling in between dream oldies
which death waiting, and on her lap flower swishing
my mom waiting in the familiar address of loneliness
winking at the only swallow of storms
and leaving windows behind tired and her mouth full of prayer
putting out unlucky evening by folding mourning
knowing she will go down into the longest rest – first pleasure
would be sweeping up suffering, and on her lap flower swishing
Translated by Mesut Şenol