BEHCET NECATIGIL
BARBAROS SQUARE
I know it's rude and shameless,
but I follow
mother and daughter
when they take a stroll.
The girl unobtrusively
walks a step ahead;
perhaps she's embarrassed
by her mother's shawl.
In Besiktas, Barbaros Square,
a monument on its right
a tomb on its left,
and the centre a square,
is the park of the poor,
especially in summer.
Hewn stones lie about
among saplings and tombs,
benches here and there,
and sitting in rows
people fill the square.
Ah, a young girl's heart
must surely look.
The rest is sea-front,
beached caiques,
a quayside cafe,
lights shed on the water
and Uskudar over there.
The mother, exhausted,
sinks to the humid earth,
but keeps her eye
on her daughter standing
While records play their loudest songs,
they sit on
and gaze at the sea.
The young are in need of fun,
Oh girl with the aging mother,
Oh cool breeze from seas!
THE WAGER
It looks like
Our wager will take some time
Leaving work and occupation
I moved to a house facing the cemetery
Death you can not cheat me
The wager is still on
ETERNAL HOUSE
When they are his age
Their mind spills into the world outside,
They do not look at me,
Day and night their eyes roam the streets.
Even a strand of hair would weigh
Heavier than me in their sight.
Let it be so, I can wait
Whether the waiting be short or long.
Sons have left me, daughters too
But only for a short time.
Let them, I say, they're young,
Let them enjoy the endless streets.
I too have tried that very often. But I know
They can't do without me, they'll come back.
And I am big. I am the House,
I forgive.
Translated by Feyyaz Kayacan
