Sometimes I am not aware
of my tagging along after the rain to get
towards the depths of the forest.
The silent, red forest
in its remote corners I get lost all the time.
Its trees are slightly wavy
its pulse runs in its branches
its leaves are squeezed in between the trunk and the twigs.
Vigorous ivies
wind around first the valleys then my tongue
their roots hang on to my marrows
pressing me through my every cell.
I am after the rain, the rain is after me
by silent caresses
they get to the soil in small swallows.
The soil with its cracks being drown
with its greasiness turning into a grizzly color
sucks the nectar drip-by-drip…
If you ever touch the rain
reddish spark will come about, drops will scatter.
If you ever touch the soil
its roof will fracture and explode after becoming a volcano.
While being in flames out of the rain
screams are smoking from the chimney of the forest…
English Translation by Mesut ŞENOL