ILHAN BERK
THE NAME OF PAIN
Slowly quietly gold is collected under your command slowly quietly
Slowly quietly wheat is distributed under your command slowly quietly
Slowly quietly people's bread is served out under your command slowly quietly.
With you rapidly silk darkens spoils with you rapidly
Water is tied in knots becomes turbid rapidly with you
With you rapidly is atrophied the history of labour
And with you slowly slowly the name of pain written extensively
comes out on the copper quartz bronze.
Translated by Suat Karantay
AS IF DEATH WERE A DAlLY ROUTINE
The road keeps winding. Eventually we stopped there. Through the open door we saw her, sitting there spinning wool A wooden spindle in her hand. A large ball of yarn had rolled over and stopped there. At the threshold we extended our heads: "How are you?" we said. As if changing the pl"ce of a chair, "I' m simply dying!" she said, without raising her head. As if death were a daily routine.
A wind kept beatlng the sea before her Which she sometimes raised her head to see.
Translated by Suat Karantay