Mist, by Metin Altiok

I elaborately painted the yarn of love
The sore color of going yet not finding.
I spun the mist with a silver breeze,
Wove this chilly cloth of solitude,
Sewed a shirt to my voice, from separations.
I memorized death altogether and came back
With this bitter taste of songs on my tongue,
I don't know where to go.

Finally I acquired a ball of fire of my own,
Fostered it with my breath, on the tip of my lips.
The ashes of my lifetime, always scattered behind me
Slowly covering all the tracks I left.
With the drifting wings of a burnt day,
I ran, ceaselessly ran with that little fire of mine,
To find my own sky, on the desperate shores of my name.

Sis, Metin Alt─▒ok

├ľzenle boyad─▒m ipli─čini sevginin,
Gidip de bulamaman─▒n incinmi┼č rengine.
Sisi g├╝m├╝┼č bir r├╝zg├órla tepelerden e─čirdim,
Dokudum yaln─▒zl─▒─č─▒n bu serin kuma┼č─▒n─▒,
Sesime ayr─▒l─▒klardan bir g├Âmlek diktim.
├ľl├╝m├╝ tastamam ezberledim de geldim,
Dilimde bu buruk t├╝rk├╝ tad─▒yla
Bilmem ki buradan nereye giderim.


Sonunda kendime bir top yang─▒n edindim,
Solu─čumla besledim duda─č─▒m─▒n ucunda.
├ľmr├╝m├╝n k├╝l├╝yd├╝ savrulan hep ard─▒mda,
├ľrterek yava┼č yava┼č b─▒rakt─▒─č─▒m izleri
Yanm─▒┼č bir g├╝n├╝n s├╝r├╝klenen kanatlar─▒yla.
Ko┼čtum, durmadan ko┼čtum o k├╝├ž├╝k yang─▒n─▒mla,
Ad─▒m─▒n ├žaresiz k─▒y─▒lar─▒nda kendi g├Â─č├╝m├╝ bulmaya.