MEHMET MÜFİT
(1952)
SPRINGTIME AT THE MEETING HOUSE
burn abraham, burnnnn
may yours be a huge fire
come squat between us you little osman, let your
toes catch fire tooa dream this is to be wrapped in doublefoil; a dream this is
tall and blond as you ascend its stairs
confused and without silence as you descend, a dream this is
of half loves, bitter sweet dried apples and geranium
on horse carriages decorated it calls
upon dusty towns great and smallhow to steal away a crunchy spring
shall we plunge into plums or mulberries
the truck is going uphill; come on leap up sherif
give us a shout, throw the watermelons at our head.
then the daughters of the town clerk
and then the magistrate's wife; one after the other,
fell on the mirror with the cock, our moustaches too raced
with the bearded uncle's caneleave it to cool ishmael, leave it ishmael
you know, this meeting house is to be entered with a melted
spring and the strings of that spring
are of the tongues of wingless birds.
leave it to cool ishmael, let the spring enter the meeting house
with aplomb: let it a-gamble in coffeehouses
let it dally with books, let it boast and swagger
let it pray at his mother's tomb on holy days
leave it to cool ishmael, let it, let it cool down
let it negotiate with whispers; let it account for itself
at police headquarters, let it piss on walls and
enter prisons, for torturesTranslated by Nebile Direkcigil