At forty, I have reached my mother’s sixty-third year
I adopted the pride of a tiger, a motherhood without a child
I mistook the word for myself, the fault lies with my father
I took everyone for a poet, hence this foolishness
For one who wishes to live, every place in the world is a room
The one gazed upon surely longs to be seen
Visible from this well of a man that has descended into my heart
Every woman is a feminist, if she has short hair
What begins must end, both the universe and love
Philosophizing may not lead one to the truth, yet
What does – falling into a well – reveal to a person?
If a tiny room is all you lack
Then poetry suffices, read your own life
Fate is sorrow, and the approaching hour
Is merely a poetic resemblance to a dead poet
I chose to remain unfinished; this means I am not incomplete
I chose to be a fool; this means I am a misfit
I chose to forget; this means I love
I chose to be deceived; this means I am loved
I chose to be human; this means I am a feminist
I chose to be a poet, to return to the father upon death
I did not choose my life, this means Orhan Göksel
From the book titled “Tabiat Bende Değil” (Nature Is Not Within Me) / Yazılı Kâğıt Publications / 2017
English Translation by Mesut Şenol