UMIT SENER TA

UMİT SENER TA

LETTERS TO VIRGINIA WOOLF

Letters to Virginia Woolf/ umit sener ta

In fact, I started yesterday. I was calling the words brought by a hurricane. My soul was as empty as the wind-scoured streets. I do not know if you’ve ever been in such a frame of mind, as if you want to leave but you were unable . Your eyes are  always on the door, waiting  for someone to enter.

I’ve built thousands of palaces on tiny words

some broke with utterances, some with marble

I don’t have a slingshot to chase the birds, flying over me

Don’t unlock your inwardness Virginia

I sewed knots on myself and

the imagery of your Cossack

It is not easy to hit the sky

when one hooks onto your heart the hook of the ships

when I wander drop by drop in your damp geography

when your heart was open

Looking at the rooms, you were only you, staring back at you

The sourness of the pen is reflected  on paper

The lake feels the pain of the submission of the swan whose shadow is broken

the self-lost dervish leaves his cardigan for someone else

I could not deliver you, a life

like the migration of ants, things deleted from my brain

It’s apparent, I could not look after the inner man through the words, while you are growing your inside

Listen Virginia

I'll tell you the chagrin of my inwardness

broken toy of a boy

racing cars, run close to me, uncathable

thickening time

While growing drops deepened seas

I was drowning on the shallow coast of homes

It was like the defeat of a powerless ember

the cloud I carried over me

the shiver of the rain were jackets, peeled out of me

before entering the bed

deceived mother was a scream in the bosom

like wearing a bracelet

I would gift to every new woman

Each diary

like a smile remained incomplete

of a past

despite persistent writing down

my rage is not over time

all the gathered letters are flying to their owner

don’t shout anymore, Virginia

TRANSLATED BY: JOSEF KILCIKSIZ

THE GHOSTS WITHOUT IDENTITY

The ghosts without identity

Was wandering around in this city

You would not come

The piano was tumbling on the windows

One seller stole baby from a young girl

Her screaming was waiting on the wall

You were absent

FARMERS MARKET

I am walking through Farmers Market

Broken glasses in my palms

The seller is crying my name

Bodies on tables are mine

I forgot my shoe shine box

My shoes are invisible

I am walking through Market Street

The balloon seller knows me

I am the blues in his

Old jacket pocket

UMIT SENER TA

UMIT SENER TA: He is the editor of the web site www. Turkishliteratureandart.com  He has one poetry book in Turkish called “ Bocekciler carsisi”He has so many translations and poems published several magazines,such as,Siirden,Siiri Seviyorum,Agir ol Bay Duz yazi. Currently he is living in United States. His poems translated several international magazines in many languages such as, Spanish, Albanian and Bengali.