no light that shines on us have we seen, how many
where does our path lead
grant me a courage
my moonlight child
our top did not spin with a child’s mouth
we said morality and poetry, for now on a tightrope
we rock the world in a flurry into the dove’s nest
we lit the fuse and we are making this world a woman
such that upon its heel, presence and beauty roll on
to the narrow lane, an endless aftershock from my dark face
blood flows into the seas, where are you now my child
if we call it the pomegranate rose of the secluded coffeehouse
would we stay offline
would we miss the fig milk in the white void
believing its hum, would we forgive the forty thieves
we remain suspended in the path of migration flowers should we break a noise
our night-black fingernails will not come off
the worm of the apple falls to our side
yet we are so blind that we lowered Eve from the rowboat
then sent Adam off to Fizan, to Hizan, delicate one
we are the host circumambulated by evil eyes
where does our path lead, my moonlight child
whose name is the bead of silence, would it be poetry if I said Medusa
would Mother Nature be offended, saying you forgot the snake nation
because you gave your heart to the Greek
grant a courage
first the salt on my tongue, then the dark stalactites
dripping upon my shores
wipe them all into the fire of my anger
hand my life over to the autumn falling by the wall
forgive, let the time inside me breathe
I must go to the wind carrying a letter
it is hard to stay into the night at the cistern
where I drank water stained by the freight train
looking at a wound within us
to find oneself, a human must first die!
English Translation by Mesut Şenol