Metin Eloglu
(1927-85)

THINNESS OF OUR DAYS
You can no longer steal extra time
out of fate's timetable. Here we are
sunken on our knees in unison,
stained by tobacco, erased by drink.

If only we had a poem to memorise.


KNOT
I have a feeling I've seen
these bargain beauties before.
If I were to go rummage through old books
I might even burst into tears.

Shall I, shall I let my hair down?
Please do.


EROSION
I want to live
you want to live
he wants to live.

You'll say, do you call this poeby?
But what kind of world is this?
Do you call this peace?
Do you call this freedom?
Do you call this brotherly Iove?
I know, put up with it, you'll say.
Yes but what kind of life would that be?

Translated by Feyyaz Kayacan Fergar