AYTEN MUTLU
(1952)PEOPLE
Between the earth and sky tiny houses
Murmuring rooms, half-open windows
Utensils, chairs, a weary table
Small habits, worn-out tastes
A handful of dust, an afternoon shadow
And time sitting proudly in a corner seat
Between walls familiar to one another
So many belongings, so much anguish, so little love
A little bit of salt taken from the sea, a lighthearted feeling
From the sun, a kiss, a laugh
Whispers, the mist on the flowers in the vase
And the smeli of death
Pervading the moment's haste
Between the earth and sky a gathering of souls
A cup of wrath, immense grief
Screams, entreaties, deep silence
And this thirst for life
Which keeps flowing
And flowing
Hitting against the veins of tiny houses
Translated by Suat Karantay
YOUR FACE AND THE TOLLING OF BELLS
It was just like spring to laugh with you
and to touch the chimes of your face
lecherous and tranquil like a naked pomegranade
your face was the intinlations of forenoon
at the meeting place of autumn
in the closed seas of your face
the birds flew like poisoned arrows
the summer blindfolded at the bottom of a wall
what is left of your face, a rusty shadow
the receding forest, the flower in mouming
pieces of broken glass the colors of spring
how do birds get accustomed to losing a sky?
ah, I'm late in getting to know the rain
like a naked pomegranade I am defeated and offended
where like the deteriorating autumn your old face
vanished with the tolling of the bells
Translated by Suat Karantay