Street, by Onat Kutlar

It was a street humming with the memories
of the cypress trees in a ceaselessly changing city.
On the top of high, ash gray buildings, the afternoon
would hit with a yellow light on the dull and silent
crater ponds of windows
Elderly would sit there, dusty pincushions and the fall
would rake the sepia voidness on their faces
with the awry rains of the pale seagulls
It would plant the seeds of death to their bellies down there
in the streets of mold-colored rivers that sell
coffee and anise flowers, blended with a scent of filth
there would be competent frogs
pleasure panderers and smugglers of history
Ladies with rumpled roses would pass by
young Lydian-silver ladies waiting to be noticed
on the cobblestone paths
that are renewed over and over again
Sometimes with the sail of bloody flags
dockworkers' galleys would go to the first-aid
Siren sounds would leave blurry marks
on the granite memory of the doormen from Sivas

At the hours that the daily work is over - I mean the nights
the street would operate like a brothel
on the walls of the houses facing both the sea and the hookers
the Marine regulars would write the history of an arabesque battle: Love
The purple razor of large banknotes would change hands
at the gates, shaking and deeply
It would slit the walls of the feudal times
and reach the feet of the morning

That was the source of the idle kids the dustmen of life
kids from the East with their plastic shoes and their arms
clinging to the warmth of a dead mother
They would sweep the leftovers of the night
The humble people would sew the city's cloth
with the pale needles of the sunrise
and the day would start

I loved you there
Right at the point that connects the street to the sea
time would braid the hair of the days between the night and rainbows.
Your tender curious docile heart
would show its family tree to a wild wizard
with a grass song, from the blood river there
I pulled out the wine of the future and gold from the flaming days
I pulled out a poem from the unbloomed leaves of your beauty
a river in the midst of the steppe a sky at the bottom of a pit
a breeze of freedom from the yards of prisons

Don't forget, when I cease to exist, when the city changes
and when the land of words granted to you by a poor man
those days disappears
there will only remain an infinite and nameless sea and a pine tree
kissing my waters.

Sokak, Onat Kutlar

Durmadan de─či┼čen bir kentte selvilerin
an─▒lar─▒yla u─čuldayan bir sokakt─▒
Y├╝ksek ve k├╝lrengi yap─▒lar─▒n tepesinde ikindi
sar─▒ bir ─▒┼č─▒kla vururdu pencerelerin donuk ve sessiz
krater g├Âlc├╝klerine
Orada ya┼čl─▒lar otururdu tozlu i─čne yast─▒klar─▒ ve g├╝z
sararm─▒┼č mart─▒lar─▒n e─čri ya─čmurlar─▒yla gelir tarard─▒
y├╝zlerinde unutulmu┼č sepya bo┼člu─ču
Kar─▒nlar─▒na ├Âl├╝m├╝n tohumlar─▒n─▒ ekerdi a┼ča─č─▒larda
hafif bir la─č─▒m kokusuyla kar─▒┼č─▒k kahve
ve anason ├ži├žekleri sat─▒lan
k├╝f rengi ─▒rmaklar─▒n soka─č─▒nda ehliyetli kurba─čalar
safa pezevenkleri ve ge├žmi┼č ka├žak├ž─▒lar─▒
Arada inat├ž─▒ arnavutlar─▒n
durmadan yeniledi─či kald─▒r─▒mlardan
g├╝lleri ├Ârselenmi┼č kad─▒nlar ge├žerdi farkedilmeyi
bekleyen erken kararm─▒┼č lidya g├╝m├╝┼čleri gen├ž k─▒zlar
Kanl─▒ bayraklar─▒n yelkeniyle arada
tersane i┼č├žilerinin kad─▒rgalar─▒ ge├žerdi ilkyard─▒ma do─čru
Siren sesleri sivasl─▒ kap─▒c─▒lar─▒n granit belle─čine
bulan─▒k izler b─▒rak─▒rd─▒

G├╝nl├╝k i┼člerin bitti─či saatlerde yani geceleri
sokak bir kerhane gibi i┼člerdi bahriye gediklileri
denizi ve orospular─▒ ayn─▒ anda g├Âren evlerin
duvar─▒na arabesk bir sava┼č─▒n tarihini yazarlard─▒: A┼čk
Binliklerin mor jileti ├žal─▒┼č─▒rd─▒ kap─▒larda titreyerek ve derin
bir yar─▒kla a├žarak feodal zaman─▒n surlar─▒n─▒
sabah─▒n eteklerine ula┼č─▒rd─▒

Oradan ba┼č─▒bo┼č ├žocuklar ├ž─▒kard─▒ ya┼čam─▒n ├ž├Âp├ž├╝leri
do─čulu ├žocuklar plastik ayakkaplar─▒ ve kendi g├Âvdelerindeki
├Âl├╝ ana s─▒cakl─▒─č─▒na sar─▒lan kollar─▒yla
s├╝p├╝r├╝rlerdi gecenin art─▒klar─▒n─▒
Solgun i─čneleriyle ilk ─▒┼č─▒klar─▒n dikerdi a─č─▒rba┼čl─▒ halk
kentin zar─▒n─▒ yeniden ve g├╝n
ba┼člard─▒

Orada sevdim seni
Soka─č─▒ denize ba─člayan ge├žitte orada
geceyi g├Âkku┼ča─č─▒na ba─člayan g├╝nlerin sa├ž─▒n─▒ h─▒zla ├Ârerdi zaman
Sevecen sorgulu uysal y├╝re─čin
bir ├žimen t├╝rk├╝s├╝yle a├žard─▒ soya─čac─▒n─▒n gizli bah├želerini
├ž─▒lg─▒n bir b├╝y├╝c├╝ye, orada kan ─▒rma─č─▒ndan
gelece─čin ┼čarab─▒n─▒ ├ž─▒kard─▒m ve yanan g├╝nlerden alt─▒n
bir ┼čiir ├ž─▒kard─▒m g├╝zelli─činin kapal─▒ yapraklar─▒ndan
bozk─▒r ortas─▒nda ─▒rmak kuyu dibinde g├Âky├╝z├╝ bir ├Âzg├╝rl├╝k
esintisi zindanlarin avlularindan

Unutma ben yokolunca de─či┼čince kent ve bir yoksulun
o g├╝nlerden
sana ba─č─▒┼člad─▒─č─▒ s├Âz ├╝lkesi yitip gidince
sonsuz ve isimsiz bir deniz kalacak bir de ├žama─čac─▒
benim sular─▒mla ├Âp├╝┼čen.