A puddle on the stream bed onto which I glide in between
the slope where I buried my memories and the wild flowers,
declaring there is a spring there. Where antelopes come
/down
on that stream where the shepherd dogs’ howling echoes.
A worn out peace, a peaceful tiredness collected
from the days where everything turns into nothing. What could be done?
As a small child… One of my memories was dropped on the road,
where amblers run like flying. O time, wait for me!
I am always after you… The crack of dawn, the evening twilight, roads and
/roads…
Books pens, papers… A stone which can never be taken up to the top.
Commuting all day long…
O time, my memory was dropped from my horse! Wait for me in the shadow of
/ a willow,
With the sway of the poplar tree. Wait for me with the rose blooming.
O time, my heart was dropped! Wait for me, wait for me…
English Translation by Mesut Şenol