SERPIL DEVRIM

SERPIL DEVRIM

I'LL KNOW IF I TOUCH

what's the colour of the smell of your skin

I'll know if I touch

sea is a bay horse

that breaks free from its mane

with southwester

it exuberates messily

waves

crazily

civilian

a bay

horse

it's possible to neither reach it

nor lie down

nor mix with it to become one

it turns from blue to grey

from grey to way too grizzle

until it turns into pine green

sky gets confused

foggy and misty

and pours down on earth dripping wet

I get confused

the sorrow behind my eyes

turns into the tales of old times

what is the colour of the smell of your skin

I'll know if I touch

when you touch my sorrow

like touching Istanbul

in what language is the taste of your smile

I'll know if I touch

in a cool fall morning

when the day just awakened you

it s the strong fresh brewed tea

in the slim cup

and bagels with cheese

it's the Bosporus ferry

that untidiest its ropes hastily

and disappears in breezes

so white that you think

it were my grandmother's wedding dress

in the dowry chest

which gets more value each day

wrapped in blue satin

it wanders about

in my dreams

it isn't possible to be the foam left behind it

nor the seagull scream above

neither is to attach yourself to it

in what language is the taste of your smile

I'll know if I touch

when you touch my sorrow

like touching Istanbul

in what climate is the dark of your eyes

I'll know if I touch

at the afternoons during which

the nets overflowing with abundance are pulled

sunset is

a red, lilac and orange song

the moon doesn't hide its face

and oozes its silver onto the fish in the net

it lines in filaments

some white cheese a piece of melon

and a glass of ıced raki

and a song

of nihavend mode

sung at the tables with friends

whose taste still remains

it isn't possible to dive and melt in it

nor remaining outside not floating

neither is not to hold onto your eyelashes

in what climate is the dark of your eyes

I'll know if I touch

when you touch my sorrow

like touching Istanbul

HERAT

Nerat, the red roof of my wheat house

the big  gap in the middle of my solitude

surrounder by an endless cliff

a foggy cloud passes it through

and then women submissive voiceless

with their moan attached to their shells

whose tulle-curtained eyes are owl nets

so far from love, close to god

then children monotone and motionless

their passive bodies are hung on death

wooden legs unable to run

at times in which time stops

so far from life, close to god

Herat : the red roof of my wheat house

they dig holes out of pinpricks

in the fifty two savage teeth of the dragon

the tears the whole into bits

the big gap in the middle of its solitude

so far from bread, close to god

MY DERVISH

my dervish, my passenger, my beloved

my bow stretched from the seventh floor of

the heavens whose dome is collapsed

they say; the bow never arrives where the arrow goes

all a lie, all a lie i swear

the distance lessens

as the love of the ground increases

-in love with the sky, with the limitless distance

between the ground and the sky

my dervish, my passenger, my beloved

my light -percolating from the seventh floor of

the heavens whose dome is collapsed

they say; the light carries the color of the heart it comes from

all a lie, all a lie i swear

light transforms into the color

of where it touches, like a lover,

it gets the color of longing

in the limitless distance

my dervish, my passenger, my beloved

my words coming from the seventh floor of

the heavens whose dome is collapsed

they say; the letters lean forward

and prostrate themselves with dread

all true, all true i swear

in the limitless distance

they come together

and like us they hold each other

they talk a bit of you, a bit of me

my dervish, my passenger, my beloved

love’s heard from the seventh floor of the heavens

it wakes the seven sleepers

it smells like ever-blooming roses.

SERPIL DEVRIM