Time Thieves
We were time thieves,
ungrown age-elders
remained from
a generation less childhood,
we stole the time from Kronos,
and the shadow has been broken in the image of the mirror.
However, we got up and grew towards the rain,
as if repairing a city respectfully.
Maybe birds pass,
maybe they pass quietly,
our gloom passes.
We were time thieves,
a repentance in the silhouette of the night,
we believed in incorrigible words,
We kept silent so that the world would not jump the rails.
We switched from dream to dream,
and we caressed a planet with our pretty hands.
We cursed fate at every station, or whoever it came across.
We were taken captured in the chambers of the same heart,
the vagabonds of the same fate,
like a stone forgotten in the wild,
so hard, so miserable, so lost,
a touchstone broken in the middle of a city in the Middle East,
abandoned even by God,
like dying, namely,
suddenly becoming the story of someone else, namely.
We were time thieves,
looking for raki in cheap taverns.
We were not payee of anything from anyone.
Our footprints were decent,
we were offended ones left on the road,
a malarial sky above us.
We were time thieves,
looking for Abraham by the ant walk.
If we had put out the fire, we would have been flame,
we did not put it out, we have become ash.
We were time thieves,
the day came,
and the time stole us from ourselves.
(Translated from Turkish by Serkan Engin)
The Last Passenger
A winter passes through the middle of your eyes
the last passenger remained from the night passes,
his sleep on his forehead,
his longing on his mind.
Your eyes pass to and old age,
hit the southwester
without happening to pass
the harbor,
they are caught by an old pirat
I say, your eyes,
desolateness has come down on their curtain
a pirate has been cross with the luck of your eyes.
the harbour is offended its route and waits for the course
a storm has fallen on your eyes in the pirate sea
I say, this is the last passenger,
tears the heart out,
who knows which roses cry
for his longing
The moonless night, whose sin goes to whom
your eyes are bent
and they go as being payee
the emerald winged birds don’t remember the southwester
the talismanic wind
which you passed through
hey history, go on your own way
you never loved us
(Translated from Turkish by Serkan Engin)
ŞÜKRÜ ÇIFTÇI
ŞÜKRÜ ÇIFTÇI: Poet, medical doctor, academician. He was born in Turkey. Assoc. Prof. Dr. Şükrü Çiftçi graduated from Istanbul University Cerrahpaşa Faculty of Medicine and now he is working as Anesthesiology and Reanimation specialist. His poems have been published in many literary magazines in Turkey. His first poetry book, “Kalanın Hikayesi” (The Story of the Remaining), was published by Klaros Publications in 2022. It was printed three times in the same year. The poet received the ‘Rüştü Onur 2023 Special Jury Award’ and the ‘Seyhan Erözçelik 2023 Support Award’ with this book. He was selected among the top five works in the ‘Vedat Türkali 2023 Poetry Awards’. Some of his poems have translated into English, Italian and published in international magazines.
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