From the book
I Am No Jesus and other selected poems, tanka, and haiku, 2014
by ram krishna singh
translated into crimean tatar by taner murat
I Am No Jesus – Men Isa tuwulman
A project developed by Nazar Look
Attitude and Culture Journal of Crimean Tatars in Romania
www.nazar-look.com
edited and translated into
crimean tatar by
taner murat
ISBN-9786066245623
ISBN-6066245627
Preface
Life is too real to be believed, yet we must keep dreaming and try to live
with a resonance of what we think while we touch various levels of
reality—political, social, personal, or spiritual—and be ourselves.
Genuine poetry happens as an event to be truthful, clear, courageous, and
honest to oneself; to be open about things one often tries to conceal. Poetry
provides an opportunity for expressing ones intimate moments with the
same passion as while talking about the interwoven outer realities.
I also view it as the expression of cosmic, organic, erotic life, creating its
own forms, expressing itself and, in being expressed, finds its voice.
My experience convinces me that we are not limited by what we are, but we
are limited by what we are not. Poetry becomes a means to overcome this
limitation, and thus, allows us not only to know ourselves but also to
expand on what we are.
This means we should remain open to healthy revisions that we can make
to our way of thinking, and incorporate new perspectives into our outlook.
In other words, we should not let our own rigidity destroy our potential,
but rather we should evince a forward-looking, tolerant, and open mindset
if we wish to create future.
I don’t know if my poetry fits in what I think at the moment, but poetry
does help us traverse the boundaries of hesitation to see the joy of
fulfillment.
I am grateful to my poet friend Taner Murat for not only readily agreeing to
translate this collection into Crimean Tatar but also to publish it to
support intercultural creativity .
R.K. Singh
Aldsóz
Yalandîr dúnya, lákin usunnuñ siyasiy, maseriy, saksiy ya ruhiy gibí túrlí
seviyeleríne baskanda bíz ózlígímízden bazgesmeden tús kurup óz
túsúnğelerímíz men barabar sîñlap yasamalîzmîz.
Hakkikiy siir tora, asîk, ğesaretlí, óz-ózí men dogrî-dúrúst bolmak bír
yaratuw olaydîr, sîk-sîk ğasîrîlgan siylerní asîk-asîk añlatmasîdîr. Siir
insannîñ ísíndekí anlarîn añlatkanda tîsînda tokîskan olaylarîñ hewesí
men añlatmasîn sîrasîn tanîr.
Men siirní evren, kewde, súygí, yasam ifadesí gibí kórermen, óz sekílníñ
ifadesí gibí kórermen, bo sekílníñ yaratuw sîrasînda da bír seslenme gibí
kórermen.
Ğelenímíz bízím bolganîmîz tuwuldur, bízím bolmaganîmîzdîr, boga
teğrúbeme gúweníp inanîrman. Tízme bo ğelenní gesmek bír imkáandîr
onîstan o hem ózímízní tanîmamîznî kolaylastîrar, hem ózlígímízní
keñiyter.
Bo hem túsúnğe tarzîmîznî sawlîklî deñístírmelerge ázír tutmamîz kerek
bolganîn aytar, hem de kórísímízge ğañî noktayiy nazarlar eklemek
kerekkenníñ añlamîna kelít. Baska bír sóz men, óz kuwetímízní óz
sertlígímíz men ğok etmemelímíz, keleğekní yaratağak bolsak razîlîk man
hos kórúw kósteríp kollarîmîznî asîk tutmalîmîz.
Kosîklarîm búgúngí túsúnğeleríme uyup-uymaganîna kefíl bolmam, lákin
siir toktamsîrawlarîmîznî gesíp emellerímízge ğetísmemízge yardîmğîmîz
bolîr.
Hem bo ğîyîntîknî Kîrîm Tatarğasîna terğúme etken, hem mamuriyet
tíllesmemízge yardîmğî bolgan Tatar sayir arkadasîma minettarman.
R. K. Sink
I.
Selected Poems - Saylangan manzumeler
Merkaba
They say my birth was a heavenly event:
here I am suffering third-rate villains
that erect walls to stop the chariots
from Merkaba: the angels fume but who cares
heaven is a mirage in human zoo
Merkebe
Mením tuwumum múbarek bír olay bolganîn
aytalar:
mína súndí Merkebe telegelerín toktatağak
yúksek kalawlar kalagan
úsúnğí sînîf yamanlarnîñ azaplarîn segemen:
melekler tuman atar ama kímíñ ísíne kírsín?
insaniy haywan baksasînda ğennet bír seraptîr.
New Year
The dates on calendar question
all my undone acts
and memories that haunt or fade
in nightly nakedness
stumbling toward the next day’s sun
without celebration
at 63 January jeers
my degenerating sex
a still itch: mantra and mirror
quiet god and drying petals
Ğañî yîl
Kúnsayîmda kúnler bútún yapîlmay kalgan
íslerímní sorgîlar
kese sîpalaklîgînda rengí agarîp ğoklap turgan
akîlîmda kalganlarnî da
ertesí kún kúnesíne dogrî súrúnúp
bayramlasmadan
altmîs ús yasînda Osak ayî
soysîzlaskan ğínísímní maskara etíp taslay
hareketsíz bír kîsînuw: mantra man ayna
sessíz tañrî man solgan sesek yapraklarî
Nude Delight
The coiled divine
renews eternity
in the body's cells
fed on sensuous sweetness
and moment's littleness
for years fleshly reign
seemed spirit's radiance
in the deep pit
now suddenly sparks the itch
for heaven's nude delight
Sîpalak zewuk
Burumlî mewla
kewdeníñ kózelerínde
hem an tarlîgîna
hem sehvaniy tatlîsîna peslengen
ebediyetní tazeler
senelerdír ten húkúmí
ruhnuñ nurî gibí edí
deren sukurda
súndí bírden kîsîntî balkîldar
ğennetíñ sîpalak zewukî úsún
Stranger
I don’t know where I lived
in my former existence
but the hell I’ve breathed
for three decades here
couldn’t adapt my soul:
I remain a stranger
to them and to the cold walls
that put out the candle lights
in my roofless house
Yabanğî
Eskí barlîgîmda
ka-yerde yasaganîmnî bílmem
ama mínda kîrk senedír
ísíme tartkan ğehennem
ruhumnî hes alîstîra-almadî:
olar úsún, tóbesíz úyúmnúñ
maysîraklarîn sóndírgen
salkîn duwarlarî úsún
men bír yabanğî kalîrman
Avalanche
Time’s wrinkling fingers
trivialize the sun and snow
in a crooked land
I see history crippled
with midnight dyspnoea
the green umbrella
hosts disaster:
the avalanche waits on its shoulder
the wound opens
Kar awmasî
Zamannîñ kîrîsîklî parmaklarî
kîyîs bír memlekette
kar man kúnesní asalatîr.
sakatlangan tewúke kóremen
yarîkesede solîs tarlîgî man
yesíl semsiye
felakettír:
omîzînda kar awmasî beklep
ğara asîlîr
Gleam of Light
Late August:
clouded midnight, sneezing
restless in bed
all negative vibes
well up the mind
jackals yell outside
I read Hsu Chicheng
for a gleam of light
Ğîltîrîm
Awustos soñî:
bulutlî kese yarîsî, hapsıruwlar
tósekte kiyípsízlík
bútún bolîmsîz sílkínúwler
akîlnî totîralar
tîsarda sógel-bóríler bakîrîsa
bír ğîltîrîm úsún
Kîsuw Çiy Çeñní okîyman
Dying Sun
How does it matter
I remember or forget
the nights or lights
that stand still
in the dense fog
nothing visible
nor audible
the thundering planes
touch the ground:
it’s all game
of guess and vague
everyone
everything
even the tick
of the clock
this freezing hour
redolent of
crumbling echoes
I can’t divine vision
or loom up certainty
to mock follies
of dying sun
Ólgen kúnes
Akîlîmda tutsam da bír
unutsam da bír
hareketsíz kalgan
keselerní-ğarîklarnî
ğîygîn tumanîñ ísínde
ne bírsiy kórílír
ne de esítílír
gúdúrdegen tayyareler
ğerge tiyer:
sáde añlasîlmaz
bír tapmasa oyînîdîr
herkez
hersiy
sáátíñ takîldamasî
bírem
bo toñgan sáat súresí
parsalangan kaytawaz
kokîsî tasîr
húliya kór-almayman
súphesízlíkke de písím ber-almayman
ólgen kúnesíñ sasmalîgîn
mîskîllamak úsún
Shadow
Last evening
I saw a flower bloom
today it’s faded
but my fear
lurking like a shadow
ever present
I can’t erase:
emptying the mind
easier said than done
Kólge
Gesen aksam
askan bír sesek kórdím
búgún solgan
ama her zaman
bír kóleke gibí añîlîp
pîsuwda turgan korkîmnî
síle-alman:
akîl bosaltmasî
kolaydîr aytmasî, kîyîn yapîlmasî
Poetic Disturbance
There’s more to view in a dew drop
than what lies in my backyard
- years of muck and mucking about -
burial too difficult
in sunlight images shine
like crystal ball reveal my mind
in poetic disturbance
leaking lust and blood on dried grass
Siir raátsízlígí
Arka baksamda tabîlganlardan fazladîr
bír siy tamlasînda kóríleğekler -
sóplíkke atîlgan seneler, senelerğe gezíp tozmak,
bek kîyîn ğenaze
kúneste kóríntíler balkîldar
kurî otka kînlama agîzdîrîp
siir raátsízlígí sekken túsúnğelerímní
ortaga salgan billúr tobîday
Return to Wholeness
The body is precious
a vehicle for awakening
treat it with care, said Buddha
I love its stillness
beauty and sanctity
here and now
sink into its calm
to hear the whispers in all
its ebbs and flows
erect, penetrate
the edge of life and loss
return to wholeness
Pítínlíkke kayt
Kewde kîymetlídír
uyanuwga bír telege
oga sak bol, dep aytkan Buda
súndí mínda onîñ sessízlígínden
gúzellígínden we múbareklígínden
hoslanaman
óz kabaruw man alsayuwlarnîñ
pítín sîbîrdawlarîn esítmege
sabîrîna dalaman
yúkselíp yasam man kayîpnîñ
kenarîna dalîp
pítínlíkke kayt
Who Cares?
Death hides in the body
but who sees? it’s obscure
living on the edge
seeking space into swamp
they all talk about the sun
swelling in the sky
and close eyes to the spider
spinning waves on the ceiling
all alone, but who cares?
suspicion and distance
like lovers they pretend
to leave, yet stay longer
dishing out luxuries
showing off generosity
on the heart’s fancy table
waiting to welcome the guest
Kím dert etsín?
Ólím kewdeníñ ísínde ğasînîr
ama kím kórsín? ísí karañgî
yîkpalga asîlîp yasamak
bataklîkta kurî ğer karamaktîr
herkez kókyúzúnde sísíp kabargan
kúnesní lap etíp
tawanda egírílgen órímğek ğîlîmîñ dalgalarîna
kóz ğumar
ğap-ğañgîzlîk, ama kím dert etsín?
súphe men mesafe
yáreler gibí ayîrîskan kísí bolîrlar
ama gene barabar kalîrlar
kaálbíñ húliyalî sîprasînda
sápír beklep turganda
artkan mollîk,
ğumartlîk kósteríp
I Am No Jesus
I am no Jesus
but I can feel the pains
of crucifixion
as a common man
suffer all what he suffered—
play the same refrains—
at times cry and pray
hope for better days ahead
despite lack of love
diminishing strength
failures, ennui and blames
for sins I didn’t author
I am no Jesus
but I can smell the poison
and smoke in the air
feel for humankind
like him carry the cross
and relive my dreams
I am no Jesus
but I can feel the pain
of crucifixion
Men Isa tuwulman
men Isa tuwulman
ama mîklanuw ağîlarîn
yasarman
sîradan bír kísímen
onîñ bútún sekkenlerín segermen
ğîrlagan nakaratîn ğîrlarman
bazîda-bír ğîlap duwalar okîrman
eksílse de súygí
keleğegímízde taa yaksî kúnlerge umut etermen
azaytîp kuwet
bolsa da kayîp, ğan sîgîntîsî,
ğúklense de kabaát bolmagan gúnama
men Isa tuwulman
ama hawadakî zeher men
tuman kokîsîn kokîlarman
insanlîk úsún
onîñ atanak tasîwîn segermen
kórgen túslerímní bírtaa yasarman
men Isa tuwulman
ama mîklanuw ağîlarîn
yasarman
It Doesn’t Rain
It’s lightning
every evening
in the sky
but it doesn’t rain
I keep postponing
my journey
whether the train is late
or I miss it
it doesn’t matter
I look below
the chasm is wide
like the lightning
but it doesn’t rain
Ğawmaz
Kók
ğalkîldar
her aksam
ama ğawmaz
ğolîmnî
sîltawlay beremen
tíren kesígíp kelse de
kasîrsam da
dert tuwul
asaga karasam
ğar ğalkîldaw gibí
geñístír
ama ğawmaz
Valley of Self
I don’t know which psalms to sing
or which church to go to feel
the flame within for a while
sit or lie still with
faith weather the restlessness
brewing breath by breath
I don’t know the god
or goddess or the mantra
to chant when fear overtakes
my being and makes me suffer
plateaus of nightmares
paralyzing spirit to live
and be the promised fulfillment
I see no savior come
to rescue me when mired
I seek freedom from myself:
my ordeals are mine alone
in the valley of self
I must learn to clear the clouds
soaring high or low
Óz-ózímníñ sayîrînda
kaysî mezamirní okîp
ya kaysî kílsege barağagîmnî bílmem
ísíndekí alewún yasap
otîrîp ya uzanîp ğatîp
inans man solîs-solîska
raátsízlígíñ kaynamasîna karsî kelmege
kaysî tañrîga ya tañrîsaga tapînîp
kaysî mantîranî okîyğagîmnî bílmem
barlîgîmnî basîp
korkî sektírgende
kara túsler kîrlarî
yasaw ruhum man
oñma sózímní felske tutturup
kelíp kurtarağak kurtaruwğî
kóre-almayman batîp
ózímden azatlanmaga karaganda:
segísmelerím sáde maga kala
óz-ózímníñ sayîrînda
bulutlarnî asmaga úyrenmem keregír
asada-yokarda taya-taya usa-usa
Allergies
The barber sees
a potential customer
in me but I pass
the tense faces
after the long walk sunshine
a fag in the car
short carnival:
neatly hide faded vests drying
in the balcony
helter skelter
afternoon windy rain
allergies again
Alerğiyalar
Berber mení
iktimaliy bír músterí kórer
ama men katîndan gesíp ketermen
kergín yúzler
uzun ğúrústen soñra
arabada ogîrasuw
kîska karnawal:
balkonda sorkîp kurutulgan
rengí sîkkan kazakalar ğasîrmak
kîy-kaleket úyleawgansoñlar
ğellí ğawunlar
baska alerğiyalar
None Talk
Flowers don’t bloom
in tribute to
builders’ apathy
the trees are dying:
they too know they’ll be felled
or the heat will kill
the concrete rises
calamity too will rise
none talk the ruins they bring
Lapîn etmezler
Sesekler
bina otîrtkan ísçíníñ dalgînlîgîna
hasret bolîp asmaz.
terekler ólír:
kesílíp ya da ateste óleğegín
olar da bílírler
beton yúkselír
felaket artar
mîratkanlarîñ lapîn etmezler
I Can Live
I’ve outlived
the winter’s allergies
and depressing rains
in a human zoo
I can live
my retirement too
without pension and medicare:
the wheelchair doesn’t frighten
I can live
uncared and unknown
survive broken home
the numbness of the arms
the pain in the neck
and inflation too
Yasarman
Tírí kalîp sîktîm
artta bîrakîp kîslarîñ alerğiyasîn
hem bír insaniy haywanat baksasînda
góñíl karartuwğî ğawunlarîn
kartlîgîmnî da
yasarman
tekmílğílík men sawlîk gúwenğem bolmasa da:
tegersíklí ískembe korkîtmaz
dayanîrman
karalmadan-tanîlmadan
tírí kaldîm atlap yuwa bîzîlmasîn
ğansîz kusaklawlarnî
moyîn awurmasîn
hem para kîymetí túsmesín
Heresy
My shrinking body
even if I donate
what’s there for research:
devil in the spine
abusing tongue in sleep
or bleeding anus
defy all prayers
on bed or in temple—
the same heresy
oozing and stinking
onanist excursion
dead or alive
Yalanğîlîk
Kîskargan kewdemní
bagîslasam da
bílím ondan ne añlasîn?
omîrgamda saytan
yukumda awuz bîzgan tíl
ya da koñk kanamasî
ğatakta-tapînakta
kîlgan duwalarîm sayîlmadan
hep so yalanğîlîk
samîrlap sasîp
onanist gezúw
ólí-tírí
Clay Dreams
They make my face
ugly in my own sight
what shall I see in the mirror?
there is no beauty
or holiness left
in the naked nation:
the streams flow dark
and the hinges of doors moan
politics of corruption
I weep for its names
and the faces they deface
with clay dreams
Balsîk túsler
Óz yúzúmní
ózíme sírkínlestíreler
aynada ne kóriyím?
kalgan hesbír gúzellík
ya da múbareklík yoktîr
sîpalak millette:
ğîlgalar kara-kara agar
kapîlarîñ baglamalarî da îñgîrdar
ahláaksîz siyaset
onîñ atlarî úsún ğîlarman
balsîk túsler men
itibardan túsúrúlgen yúzí úsún
Solitude
I don’t seek the stone bowl
Buddha used while here:
She dwells on moon beams
I can see her smiling
with wind-chiseled breast
in sexless solitude
her light is not priced
but gifted to enlighten
the silver-linings
Ğañgîzlîk
Buda bo yaklarda ekende kullangan
tas sawutnuñ pesínde tuwulman:
o aynîñ nurlarînda yasar
onîñ kúlúmsúremesín kóre-alaman
ğel ğontkan kókíregí men
ğínsiyetsíz ğañgîzlîgînda
onîñ ğarîgîñ kîymetí písílmez
aydînlatuwğîdîr
kúmús kaplamasî
Waiting
I’ve lived 23,000 days
awaiting a day that could become
god’s day in eden earth or within
or even my grandson’s smile
on his first day in mother’s arms
now I sit an empty boat
on a still river
and shake with quail dreams
Beklew
Men 23.000 kún yasadîm
Aden baksasînda Allahnîñ kúní
hálíne keleğék kúnní beklep
ya da torînîmîñ kúlúmsúrewín
síptí kúnúnde nenesín kusagînda
súndí akmagan bír ğîlgada
bos bír kayîkta otîrîp
bódene túsí men terbetílemen
Sangam
The crack in the sky
is not the rosy cleavage
to rape the body
nor is the beast any free
to escape the bloody river
that reflects stony wrath
in doggy position
they all expect their reward
for burying the noise
of sunny free wheeling
in frozen passion
turn beggars they all
search warmth with ash-smeared sadhus
at road side tea stall
whistle and wash off sins
in sangam muddled
with privileged few soar high
but I’m glad I crawl on earth
my roots don’t wave in the air
Sangam
Kókyúzúnde ğarîlma
tuwul so pembe tayîs
kewde teğawuzî etmege
kuturgandelílíkní kaytîmlap
sakîltaslî ğîlgadan kurtulgan
it turusunda
wahsiy haywan da tuwul
hepísí baksîs bekler
kúnessíz aylanuwlarnîñ dawuslarîn
toñgan hewesníñ ísíne
kómgení úsún
tílensí ğetíp alayîsî
kúl súrmelí sadhuw rahiplerden sîğaklîk karar
ğol kenarînda çaykanelerde
sîjgîrîp gúnasîn bosatîp
sangam ísínde sasîrîp
bírkas sayuwlî man yokarga sekíríp
ama ğeryúzúnde súrúnúp ğúrgenímden razîman
tamîrlarîm hawada ğelpíldemez
Indifference?
Being good
couldn’t make me know
any better
I was harmless
they sold my name
and became
what I couldn’t
in the middle of day light
I vanished like faces
from voters’ list
with no difference
to who wins
or who loses
Bas awurtmamak?
Maga
eñ yakîskan
yaksîlîk edí
men zararsîz edím
olar mením atîmnî satîp
bola-almaganîm
boldîm
kún ğarîgîñ ortasînda
yúzler saylaw tízmesínden ğok bolganday
ğok boldîm
kazananga
kaybetkenge
bas awurtmadan
I Too Descend
Some fresh bones, and designer’s dress
distorted hopes, cataract vision
hardly any better the face of the body
and if there is a soul, the soul hears
the map guides the mind’s midnight
but the destination is different
deception is courage
they know the end of journey
and get down when the train stops
I too descend
Men de túsermen
Bírkas taze súyek, bír písímğí entárí
kîyîs umutlar, kóztumanlî kórís
alayîsî kewdeníñ yúzí men zorlanîr
bír de tîn bolsa, tîn esítír
ğolnî karta kósterer akîlnîñ yarîkesesíne
lákin barîlağak yer baska
pesmanlîk ğesarettír
olar bílíp ğolnîñ soñîn
túserler tíren toktaganda
men de túsermen
From the Window
Tall houses appear
to grow like trees from the plane
slowly rising high
people turn tiny
with cars water birds and beasts
in the summer flame
nervously worried
watch the moving mass of clouds
from the window
eternal patterns
nature’s wonder on the edge
a streak of orange
thousands of lights
twinkle in colors like stars—
seat belt fastened
Penğíreden
Yawas-yawas yúkselgen tayyareden
tereklíktiy ósíp ketken
ónder úyler kórínír
yaz álewúnde
masinalar, kuslar, haywanlar man
insanlar kískene kalîr
kaárete-kaárete
penğíreden
hareketlí bulut súrúwúne karap kalaman
soñsîz nakîslar
zewuklî tuwa ğazibesí
portakal rengínde bír sîzîk
biñlerğe ğarîk
renklí- renklí yîldîzday ğalpîldar,
emniyet kemerím taguwlî
Eyeless Jagannath
I can’t understand
their mystic heaven or thrills
housed in awareness
time’s intricacies
or sources of plastic mist
through mythical depths
the wings of my thought
are too short to climb God’s height
or blue deeps of peace
I stand on the edge
of earth’s physicality
waiting on the brink
with shadowy lines
and curves to image march of
eyeless Jagannath
if nobody sees
the collapse of procession
and the dark precinct
don’t blame the poets:
there is too much emptiness
and gloom to ignore
Sokîr Jaganat
Añlay-almayman
bílíns ísínde yer algan
olarîñ sîrlî ğennet ya orseñlerín
zamanîñ múrekkeplígín
ya efsanelí derenlíkten
suniykamîrlî tumannîñ sokragîn
túsúnğelerímníñ kanatlarî kîskadîr
ne Tañrînîñ ónderlígíne barmaga yeter
ne de engeníñ mawî derenlíkleríne
dúniyanîñ ğismaniyet kenarînda
bosagasînda otîrîp
beklermen
kólgelí túz ya burumlî sîzîklar man
sokîr Jaganatnîñ ğúrúsún
taklit etmege
eger bírew kór-almasa
alaynîñ sógísín
we mahalle karañgîlîgîn
boga sayirler kabaátlí tutulmaz:
boslîk man kaswet o kadar kóp ke
kózge almadan bolmaz
Body: a Bliss
“To see you naked
is to recall the Earth”
says Garcia Lorca
it’s no sin to love
strip naked in bed, kitchen
or prayer room
the bodies don’t shine
all the time nor passion
wildly overflows
but when we have time
we must remember parts
arouse dead flesh
rub raw with desire
peeling wet layers through light
sound, senses and taste
play the seasons:
the thirst is ever new
and blissful too
to recreate
the body, a temple
and a prayer
Kewde múbareklíktír
“Sení sîpalak kórmek
Ğerkúrení akîlîma akelmektír”
dep aytar Garsiya Lorka
sîr-sîpalak ğatakta, askanada
ya da ibadet odasînda
súymek gúna tuwul
kewde herwakît ğîltîramaz
hewes te
delíğe tasîmaz
ama wakît tapkanda
parsalarîmîznî unutmamalîmîz
ólgen etní uyandîrîp
ğalañnî ístek men oksalamalî
arsîp kaytîk tabakalarnî
ğarîk, ses, tuygî we tat man
mewsím oyînî oynap:
suwsuzluk her zaman hem ğañî
hem múbarektír
kewdení, tapînaknî,
ibadetní
ğañîdan yaratmak úsún
On Her Birthday
I want the best of life for you
but you too must understand
what I can’t do
you must be patient and do
what you can—
I can’t create the fruits
I may create space
for you to stand but I can’t
become the legs
you must run the race
on your own and be
what you dream
the redness of mars
and the whiteness of moon
merge in you
you have worlds to conquer
and miles to go, my dear
you must rear the goose
and have the gold each day
Onîñ tuwum kúnúnde
Men saga hayatîñ eñ yaksîsîn ístermen
lákin yapa-almaganlarîmnî
sen de añlamalîsîñ
sabîrlî bolîp
kayretlenmelísíñ,
men ğemís yarata-almam
seníñ ayakta turmañ úsún
boslîk yaratîrman
ama ayagîñ bola-almam
ozîsnî kazanmak úsún
ózíñ ğuwurup
túsúñdekísíndiy ózíñ bolmalîsîñ
merihníñ kîzîlî man
aynîñ aklîgî
seníñ ísínde bírlesír
ğeñeğek ğihanîñ bar,
ğúreğek ğolîñ bar, ğanîm
hergún kaznî itep
astîndakî altînnî ğîymalîsîñ
I Can’t Hide Fears
I couldn’t make my bedroom church
reading psalms and Lord’s prayers
the light of my lamp and
the potion of my cup couldn’t
lift my soul mired in passions
and silence of the morning
the confessions couldn’t remove
my anguish of ages
nor the tears and cries strengthen
faith hope and love – the rock
slips the grip for enemies
within don’t halt my body
glues to the ground seeking
darkness of the womb and joys
ever restless the child doesn’t
grow and the father fails
in verses I can’t hide fears
my face I despise, can’t find
freedom from the chemicals
sprayed in the air and the smog
oppressing my breath, the sun
fails to keep the covenant
the terrors of death are real
the traps overwhelm, I can't
escape my own creations
the bed, the flesh, and serpents
that seize the house of God
I can't redeem, can't save
the soul in battle with me
in bed I can't sing and praise
Korkîlarîmnî saklayalmam
Tañrîga sureler-niyazlar okîmaga
ískerímden kílse yap-almadîm
lámbamnîñ ğarîgî man
fínğanîmnîñ serbetí
saba sessízlígínde heweske
batîp kalgan tînîmnî yúkselt-almadîlar
ne ísímní asîp
yas ağîlarîmdan kurtuldum
ne de ğîlap, kózyasî tógíp
inansîm, umutum, súygúm úsún kuwat taptîm
kaya sîptîrîlîp keter ke
ísímdekí ğawlar toktamaz
kunak man umay karañgîlîgîn karap
kewdem ğerge ğabîsîr
ebediy raátsízlík sekken balasî ósmez
atasî da tízme uydurup kún kaybetír
men tízmelerímde korkîlarîmnî saklay-almam
yúzúmní de seg-almam
hawaga pîskîrtîlgan kimiya maddelerden
we kírlí tumandan kurtulmam
solîsîmnî bastîrîp
kúnes bergen sózín tut-almay
ólím korkîsî usundur
kabawlar buwuwğî
yapkanlarîmdan kasa-almam
tósek, etler, hem ğîlanlar
kím Allah’nîñ úyún basar
ğulmasîn ódep kurtara-almam
ózím men sogîskan ğanîmnî
tósekte duwa okîp seğde yapîlmaz
Echoes Haunt
Sleepy roads
with or without light
tear the sky
I watch the murmur
in the misty darkness
Tao of midnight
tranquil emptiness:
breathing deceptive cold
the echoes haunt
Kaytawazlar ğoklap turar
Yukulî ğollar
ğarîklî-ğarîksîz
kókyúzún ğîrtîp parsalar
sîrîldamanî siyír etermen
keseyarîsî Tawo’sî
tumanlî karañgîda
sessíz boslîk:
kandîruwğî suwuk solîslî
kaytawazlar ğoklap turar
Quakes in Elements
She trusts her reading of my horoscope
and predicts a comfortable future
even as I know my toothache
now means the fall of my teeth
and anal bleeding means sure surgery
my dying libido is as uncomfortable
as the dream of humans sleeping on the ceiling:
their flattened naked back amuses me
who knows who’ll fall first?
before I wake up I try to gauge the selvage
of restless lines, moon, saturn and venus
conspiring new challenges
for the quakes in my elements
it’s already mid-November
and the bouts of bronchial allergy
tell of the cycle of incarceration:
her moving lips are no soporific
Elkelerde zelzeleler
O mením yîldîz falîma inanîp
keleğegím raát bolağagîn ğorar
kaberlí bolsam da ke tîsîmnîñ awuruwî
túseğegí demektír
koñk kanamalarîm ameliyat demektír
óliyatîrgan ğínsiy meragîm mení raátsíz eter
tawanda yuklagan insanlarîñ túsí gibí:
basîlgan arkalarî hosîma kete
síptí kím túseğegín kím bílír?
uyanmadan ewel sîzîk, yîldîz, solpannîñ
raátsíz tereklígín ólsiyğek bolaman
kím arttan ís kóríp ğol asar
elkelerímdekí zelzelelerge
tap kasîm ayîñ ortasîndamîz
bîronsit tutmalarî da
mápís deweranîn añlatîr:
onîñ oynagan eríní yuklatuwğî tuwul
Invitation
While we were talking about
love, marriage, and migraine
she kept fiddling with
her reticule—opening
putting her pen in and out
and shutting again
Sakîruw
sewda, úylenúw, we basawurmasîn
sóz etíp añlatayatîrganda
o oynap tura edí,
de santasî asîp
ísíne kalemín salîp
de bírtaa sîgarîp kapatîp
Rainbow
They colour their hair
paint the face to look younger
and speak aged lies
to match rainbow life but stare
into the sky to find
which colour follows which
before melding into one
they wonder what to do
with beige and indigo shades
that stick their vision
Kókkusagî
Olar ğas kórínmek úsún
sásíne-yúzúne boya ğagarlar
hem kókkusagîñ hayatîna yakîstîrmak úsún
kadmiy yalan aytarlar
amma bírí-bíríne batîp bírleskensík
renkleríñ sîralamasîn kóreğek bolîp
kókke karap kózín asarlar
kózíne ğabîsîp turgan
sútlí kawe men sewet renkperdesín
ka-teğegíne de túsúnúp kalîrlar
II. Tanka - Tankalar
1.
Awake in dream time
he looks for the candle—
love’s invitation
lighting up in the dark
and sings the body’s song
Maysîrak karar
túslerínden ayînîp -
ask sakîruwî
karañgîlîkka ziya
kewde sarkîsîn okîp
2.
Watching the waves
with him she makes an angle
in contemplation:
green weed and white foam break
on the beach with falling mood
O man barabar
dalgalarnî siyír etíp
kóse aylanîr:
yesíl ot man ak kópík
kumda kaswet kestíríp
3.
Awaiting the wave
that will wash away empty hours
and endless longing
in the dead silence at sea
I pull down chunks of sky
Bos sáátlerní
ğuwup alağak dalganî beklep
soñsîz sagînuw
ólí sessízlík ísínde deñíz boyînda
kókyúzúnden parsalar asaga tartaman
4.
Unknowable
the soul’s pursuit hidden
by its own works:
the spirit’s thirst, the strife
the restless silence, too much
Bílíne-almaz
óz salîsmalarî saklasa
ruhuñ niyetí:
ruh suwsuzlugî, segísmesí,
raátsíz sessízlígí fazla kelír
5.
After a tiff
lying under the same blanket
two of us stare
the peeping moon and turn
with glee to each other
Idalaskan soñ
Konîlganîñ astîndan
Kararmîz ayga
Soñra kunak ísínde
Aylanîrmîz yúz-yúzge
6.
I hate fakery
and phony academics
out to win spurs through
lies and lowness at the helm
bully and yet complain
Uyduruw sekmem
yalanğî alím sekmem
ke idare eter
alsaklîk man, yalan man
hem kawgağî, hem dawağî
7.
Plodding away at
season’s conspiracies
life has proved untrue
with God an empty word
and prayers helpless cries
Abînîp ğúrúp
mewsím fesatlarîna,
Tañrî sózí bos,
duwalar yokka ğîlaw,
yasam yalanğî sîktî
8.
The mirror swallowed
my footprints on the shore
I couldn’t blame the waves
the geese kept flying over the head
the shadows kept moving afar
Ayna ğutawuydî
kumluktakî ízímní
dalga gúnasîz
yokarda kazlar usup tura
kólgeler uzakka kósíp tura
9.
Little candles fail
to illumine the deity
or golden dome
in the valley darkness reigns
and god too awaits light
Ne tañrîga
ne de altîn kubbege ğarîk atar
kískene samlar
sayîrda karañgî húkúmdar
tañrî da ziya bekler
10.
On the prayer mat
the hands raised in vajrasan
couldn’t contact God—
the prayer was too long and
the winter night still longer
Abînîp ğúrúp
mewsím fesatlarîna,
Tañrî sózí bos,
duwalar yokka ğîlaw,
yasam yalanğî sîktî
11.
I wish I could live
nature’s rhythm free from
bondage of clock-time
rituals of work and sleep
expanding haiku present
Tuwa vezinín
haykuwnî keñiytíp,
sáát kólelígíñ,
salîsîp yuklamaknîñ
tîsînda yasar edím.
12.
Unable to see
beyond the nose he says
he meditates
and sees visions of Buddha
weeping for us
Murnuñ usundan
taa uzak kóre-almaz
deren túsúnúp
Bízím úsún ğîlagan
Budanî kórermen der
13.
I can’t know her
from the body, skin or curve:
the perfume cheats
like the sacred hymns chanted
in hope, and there’s no answer
Onî añlamam
tírsek, ten, kewdesínden.
Kokî aldatîr
umut bergen kaside
gibí, ğewap ta yoktîr.
14.
Waiting for the remains
of the sacrifice vultures
on the temple tree
stink with humans and goddess
on the river’s bank
Búrkútler bekler
tapînak teregínde
kurban parsasî
insanga tañrîsaga tolîp
sasîr ğîlga ğagasî
15.
The lane to temple
through foul drain, dust and mud:
black back of Saturn
in a locked enclosure
a harassed devotee
Tapînakka ízlek
kírlí balsîktan, tozdan, samîrdan:
kírtlí bír odada
Saturnnîñ kara arkasî
tağiz etílgen bír dindar
16.
Unable to clean
the cobweb of years he eats
the Passover meal
but forgets to wash the feet:
now drinks Good Friday prayers
Yîllarîñ ğîlîmîn
temízliy-almadan asar
Pesah yemegín
amma ayagîn ğuwmaga unutar:
súndí Kutlî Ğuma ibadetlerín íser
17.
From head to feet
shrouded in habiliment
of burqah
a slogan-shouting Indian
in God’s abode in Kaba
Bastan ayakkasîk
tígíssíz ak pestímalga
oralîp
duwa okîgan bír Hint
Kábe’de Alla’nîñ ğurtunda
18.
Naked children crowd
as I pass through the alleys
between smelly slums:
dogs bark to alert them to
the presence of a stranger
Sîpalak ballar
kokîgan salas mallesínden geskenímde
kalabalîklasîr:
yabanğî barîn bíldíríp
itler úrep sokaknî ayakka tursata
19.
The mind creates
withdrawn to its own pleasures
a green thought
behind the banyan tree
behind the flickering lust
Akîl yaratîr
óz zewukuñ tartîlmasîna
yesíl bír túsúnğe
ínğír teregíñ artînda
tuyum hewesíñ artînda
20.
Age seems to stop
for a while in sex act
a running horse
erect and heavenly
white as a lightning
Ğínísiy faaliyette
yas toktaganday bola
sabîsuwda at
tím-tík mewlayiy múlk
bír ğîltîrîmday biyaz
21.
Striving hard to feel
the image of spring again
the whole body blooms
love gently and silently
revives the final flame
Sabalanîp
baární bírtaa kórmege
kewde sesek asîp
sewda yawas hem sessíz
soñ álewní ğanlandîra
22.
Shaped like a bird
a drop of water lands
on her breast:
my breath jumps to kiss it
before her pelvic flick
Kus sekílínde
bír suw tanesí tama
kókíregíne:
solîsîm onî ópmege atlay
sanaklîgî úrkmegensík
23.
Waving arms of trees
conspire with overcast day
to drench again
the two of us look for shade
under leaking umbrella
Terek kolî sallap
sîrdasîrmîz bulutlî kún men
bírtaa suwlanmaga
ekewmíz de kólge karap
akkan semsiye astînda
24.
A mist covers
the valley of her body
leaves memories
like the shiver of cherry
in dreamy January
Bír tuman ğabîp
onîñ kewde sayîrîn
tezkire taslar
kiraz úkmesí gibí
túslí osak ayînda
25.
On the wall
the window grill’s shadow:
midnight pain
overwhelming touches
indifferent after-taste
Duwarda
pencíreníñ parmaklîgîñ kólgesí:
yarîkese ağîsî
buwuwğî oksawlar
súrgen meraksîz tatlar
26.
Each night
peace is taken away
by my father’s shrieks
and our useless effort
to calm down frayed worries
Her kese
sessízlíkke soñ berer
babamîñ sesí men
kaárlí ókírúwlerín
toktataalmagan bos sabalarîmîz
27.
Professors beware
intellectual success
lies in inventing
lies to conceal common truths
and sound holier-than-thou
Muwallím sak bol
múnevver basaruwlar
hakknî ğasîrgan
yalan yaratmaktadîr
hem ústún kelgen bír ses men
28.
Not much fun—
cold night, asthmatic cough
and lonely Christmas:
no quiet place within
no fresh start for the New Year
Kurî basîna
suwukta óksírúwler
eglenğesíz Noel
ne raátlík, ne sessízlík,
ne yîl basîna tazelík
29.
No cakes or cookies
to celebrate my birthday
this New Year eve
lunar eclipse and blue moon
cheer the cup in foggy chill
Ne tatlî, ne piskot
Ğañî Yîl arífesínde
tuwum kúnúmde
ay tutulmasî, tuman,
suwukta kade togîstîrmak
30.
Nothing new
in tomorrow’s sun:
year’s last day
too passes off like each day
nothing is amazing
Ğañî bírsiy yok
yarînnîñ kúnesínde:
yîlîñ soñ kúní de
hergún gibísí geser
sîratîsî bírsiy yok
31.
I’m no river
flowing toward the sea:
I must find my way
asking strangers in strange places
sensing soul, using insight
Tuwulman ğîlga
deñízge dogrî agayîm:
tabarman ğolnî
sorap yabanğîlîktan
seslep ísímní
III.
Haiku - Haykuwlar
crowded streets
moving among the years
wretched faces
yîllarnî gezgen
kalabalîk sokaklar
kadersíz yúzler
a sleeping snake
curled between the eggs—
layers of leaves
yukîda ğîlan
ğîmîrta arasînda -
katlangan yaprak
a yellow spider
crouching in a corner
invisible webs
sarî órímğek
kósede tomalangan
kórínmez ğîlîm
lying listless
on withered creeper
a golden bird
ğatîp otîrgan
solgan sarmasîklarda
altînday bír kus
a lone sparrow
atop the naked branch
viewing sunset
ğañgîz bír torgay
sîpalak kalgan dalda
batîska karap
a frog
bullied into the hedge:
snake’s breakfast
bír baka
salîlîkta tagîlgan
ğîlan sîprasî
on the road
an injured toad—
onlookers
ğol ortasînda
bír ğaralî kurbaka
temasağîlar
parents pelt stones
at the mating street dogs—
nosey children
tas atkan insanlar
síptlesken sokak itínemeraklî
ballar
potholes:
spots of sunshine
wobble
sukurlar
kúnesíñ tamgalarî
abînmalar
sudden downpour
noisy trucks at midnight
crowded footbridge
boratkan ğawun
yarîkesede kamiyon
kalabalîk kópír
sipping coffee
at a wayside stall
cockroaches too
kawe ğutumlap
ğol kenarînda túkáanda
bóğek te bar
watching dogs
frolicking in the park—
jaded couples
oynasîp turgan
beksílík itler parkta
yorgîn kosaklar
dusky backyard
crowded parrots’ shrieks
autumn onset
kólgelí baksa
kalabalîk dudukus sesí
kúznúñ basînda
a teenager
glides past me on roller blades
her long hair flows
ğiwan kîz gese
tegersík kîzagî man
sásín ğelpíldep
a toddler
trying to stand up by the pram—
young mother watches
paytonda bala
ayakka turağak bola
anasî karay
a girl
between the railway tracks
swings her pony tail
bír kîz
temír ğolîñ ortasînda
tulum sásín sallay
june heat wave:
two long shadows
whisper in bush
ekí uzun kólge
haziran sîğaklîgînda
salîda pîsîlday
from behind the grill
bows to the setting sun
a man in wheel chair
parmaklîk artîndan
batkan kúneske ğúgúngen akay
tegersíklí ískembede
december dusk
firy cleavage on roadside
breathless coalfield
aralîk aksamî
ateslí ğol kenarî
tînîk kómírlík
blue black fumes
swirl around his head—
floating hand
mawî-kara tuman
burum-burum basînda
sallangan bír kol
wheezing his way
to shiva’s hilly abode
a young miner
kuruldap míner
siva’nîñ bayîr úyúne
ğas bír madenğí
smoggy mist—
filling each collier’s house
with yama’s call
kara tumanlar
her madenğí úyún totîrar
yama sakîruwî man
open cast mining
burning coal on the roadside
dying vultures
asîk madenler
ğol kenarînda atesler
ólgen búrkútler
the wind hushed
a collier died
in the cage
yawas esken ğel
bír madenğí ólgen
kafesínde
tired pitman
carrying coal on bike—
only meal
yorgîn kómírğí
biçiklet men kómír tasîgantek
ótmek
driving
with burning eyes--
abandoned mine
aydamak
ateslí kîzargan kóz menterk
etílgen maden
reechy morning
driving on express way
old empty dreams
tumanlî saba
ana ğolda aydamak
eskí bos túsler
midnight darkness
wrapped in loneliness
dreamy escape
yarîkese sumî
ğañgîzlîkka orawlî
tús gibí kasîs
morning’s threshold
one more glimpse from moving car—
vanishing roses
saba sîndîrmasî
ğónegende soñ nazarkaybbolgan
gúller
a fading rose
lies with weeds between stones—
valentine day
solgan bír gúl
ot arasînda taslîkta -
yáreler kúní
on her back
writes with hair a light poem—
weight of love
onîñ sîrtînda
sásí ğeñgíl siir yazarsúygí
awurlîgî
making love
hands clasped and head hung
prayer in bed
súyúsúw
ellesken kol, sargaygan bas
tósek ibadetí
wet in sweat
from her under arms
perfume
terlí we îslak
onîñ koltîkastîndan
múst kokîsîndan
she recognizes
the difference in my breath:
drink in her absence
o añlar
solîsîmdakî farknî:
yokta ísmelímen
the morning dews
touch the hem of her skirt:
flight of first love
saba siyí
tetk kayuwuna tiyer:
síptí ask ususî
where has the moon gone?
I saw it two nights ago
uncertain grace
ay kayda kettí?
ekí kese ewel kórdím
túrlengen letafet
half-eaten
fallen under the tree
the last mango
yarsî asalîp
terek astîna túsken
soñ mango
moonlight
wrapped in cloudy sheet—
nudity
ay ğarîgî
bulut sarsabîna sarîlgan--
sîpalaklîk
shadowy hope
and disappearing hair—
63rd summer
kólgelí umut
sásíñ túsúp ğok bolmasî
altmîsúsnúñ ğazî
drifting
in the night’s silence
moon’s shadow
maksatsîz gezúw
kese sessízlígínde
ay kólekesí
alone in the sky
the sun standing still—
friday doomed
ğañgîz kókyúzúnde
kîymîldamagan kúnes
ğezalî ğuma
patches of shade
under a bare tree
wintry sun
kólge ğamawî
yapraksîz teregíñ astînda
kîs kúnesí
fingers feel
decaying fireflies
in night lights
parmaklar sezer
súrúgen atesbóğeklerí
kese ğarîgînda
full moon eclipse—
everything dark, unknown
yet filled with light
ay tutulmasî
hersiy karañgî, tanîlmaz
ama ğarîklî
incense sticks smoke
before the paper goddess—
one more new year
káát tañrîsaga
kokîlî sîbîk tumanîbír
ğañî yîl taa
mosque’s dome
lower than mobile towers—
weaker god’s signal
ğamî kubbesí
menkul kuleden alsak -
inans zayîflîgî
on loud speaker
prayers disturb
the night’s silence
megafonlarda
kese sessízlígín bîzgan
niyaz-ibadetler
drifting between
my eyes and the moon
floaters
ğolîn kaybetken
kózím men aynîñ arasînda
tayyarlar
itchy rheum
runny nose all day
monsoon
kîsîgan ğelím
bútún-gún akkan murnum
ğawun mewsímí
half-hidden sun
calls clouds to thicken:
chanting mantra
yarî-saklî kúnes
bulut kalînlastîruwğî:
mantîra okîwî
a drop embedded
in the half-opened bud—
winter morning
kómúwlí tamla
yarî asîlgan tomîrsîkta -
kîs sabasî
from the peepal
swirling rain drops—
palms open
ínğír terekten
burumlî tamîzdîrma
asîk awuslar
not alone
in midnight misery—
easter season
yañgîzlîksîz
yarîkese sefaletínde--
paskaliyeler
unexpected guests
a hell of formality:
third day of Ramzan
beklenmez sápír
Ramazanîñ úsúnğí kúní
tabiyat kayidesí
icy fish
laced with blood
spices smell
buzlî balîk
kan man súslí-oyalî
edviyyat kokîsî
Arab spring—
tending death and roses
a short bloom
Arap baáríólím-
gúlge ğónelúw
kîska sesekleme
locked in a cave
the goddess
in dim light
kuwusta kírtlí
yarîkarañgîlîkta
tanrîsa
wiping his face
under the umbrella
an old man with books
kart yúzún síler
semsiyesí astînda
kitapsî akay
watching his slide
from the sixth floor—
god in vain
altînğî kattan
resímlerín siyíretmek--
tañrî bosîna
evening sky
a pale moon behind
listless trees
aksam kókyúzí
meraksîz teregíñ artînda
solîp kalgan ay
lonely sunrise—
a butterfly flutters round
a dead marigold
ğañgîz perdahlez--
kanat wurgan gómelek
solîk sefasesek
tattooed butterfly
jumping over marigold—
bare shoulders
tamgalî gómelek
sefasesegíne atlapasîk
omîzlar
seeking refuge
on the wings of wind
scattered petals
talda karamak
ğelníñ kanatlarînda
ğayrî yapraklar
locked between
my bed and quilt
december chill
kîsîlîp kaluw
tósek-yorkan arasînda
aralîk suwugî
the morning sun
fondling with tender fingers
the red roses
saba kúnesí
ğîmsak parmagî oksar
kîrmîzî gúlní
awake whole night
no angel cares to watch—
frosty morning
kese kóz ğummadîm
melekler dert etmedí
bo saba ayaz
returning home
to the swaying branches:
new year’s wild rain
úyge kaytuw
salkalangan dallarga:
ğañî yîl ğawunî
end of festival:
I stop by her haiku
on twitter.com
ğîyînîñ soñî:
haykuwsunda toktayman
twitter awunda
cyclonic rain
mating with the rising waves—
deserted beach
burumlî ğawun
síptlenír yúkselgen dalgalar man -
bom-bos kumluklar
hunger haunts
a pavement dweller—
christmas again
aslîk awlar
sokakta yasagan bír úysúzní--
noel zamanî
living life’s routine
cycled in infinite loop
feel so limited
hayatîñ hergúnlúk
soñsîz burumunda aylanîp
tarsiganday bolaman
non-stop rain
confining me to facebook—
depression
pítmegen ğawun
mení facebook’ka kapatîp
ğanîmdan buktum
tastes the rose
a blue butterfly—
nimble feet
gúl tadîn alîr
mawî bír gómelek--
sekírsek ayaklar
in the shade
talking haiku
to a schmo
karaltîlarda
haykuwdan sóz etúw
bír ğahil men
between the lips
shadow of her tea:
lingering taste
erín arasînda
onîñ sayîñ kólgesí:
kaluwğî tad
love takes to
animal of the body:
living again
súyúsúw aketer
kewde wahsiylígíne:
bírtaa yasamak
fresh flowers
before paper deities:
navratri
taze sesekler
káát tañrîlarîñ aldînda:
Nawaratriy bayramî
steering wheels talk
in the middle of the road
a curved silhouette
ğol ortasînda
túmenní sóz etíp añlatmak
kewde karartîsî
smelly sweat
in the exam hall
two girls talk
ter kokîsî
imtan aralîgînda
ekí kîz añlata
stars twinkling
the beetle’s path
from manure
yîldîz balkîsî
bóğekleríñ ğolînda
tezíklíkten
unashamed my son
sits tight over his trousers—
smiling mother
sîgîlmadan ulum
pantolanîn beklep turar
ana kúlúmsúrer
receding crowd
from the street fair--
jesus in the eyes
kalabalîklar
tartîlîr sokak pazarîndan
kózlerínde isa
going alone
an empty shadow
in the mall
bos bír kólge
ózí-basîna gezíp dolasîr
aralîklarnî
from the ruins
rises a mute flame:
heaven's song
ğîgîntîlardan
sakaw bír alew yúkselír:
ğennet sarkîsî
short lived the sun
in the smoggy morning:
birthday visit
az yasagan
kúnes tumanlî sabada.
tuwum kúní ziyaretí
bamboo grove--
hearing whispers of
liquid dream
ğeken korîsî
seslep síngen túsleríñ
sîbîrdamalarîn
hidden between the sheets
my smothered senses--
salted honey
saypalar arasînda
saklî buwulgan tuygîlarîm,
tuzlî bal
Translated into Crimean Tatar by Taner Murat, Editor,
Nazar Look, Romania.
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