Turan Koc
(1952)

RECORD
look youth is not repeatable
what we carry on our shoulders is our burial ground
there are children who cry on our doorsteps
by invitation we are prone to deadends

after all the doings all the sayings
our women will have to make do
with a flower-spoken precipice


FULL DAY
how would I know
the centre of a poem, the heart of a loaf,
the taste of calm weathers in my mouth,
how would I know
how many springs, Row many pictures
I have in my pocket?

this afternoon is humming in me,
your eyes are huge, shadowy.
walk, let the streets stretch
walk, let your motherhood increase.
something light, something airy rises in me.
how would I know whether it's love or helplessness?

Translated by Mevlut Ceylan