NIHAT ZIYALAN
THREE POEMS TRANSLATED FROM THE TURKISH BY GUN GENCER
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ASS-LIKE

in my country
I had lots of asses fot friends
when they got bogged down
I shouldered them out
when the flies settled
on their mascara`d eyes
I shooed them away
no-one else whistling
could lead them to water
we`d throw ourselves about
on the ground
and kick with joy
and now here
whenever I see picture of an ass
I hug and kiss it
I hail the days
when we brayed in chours
and wonder about the times
when they wouldn`t drink water
with anyone else whistling..

THE CHILL

together you touch things
you savour
and share
offering more than half
then suddenly
without knowing why
you see
whirlwinds in between
you withdraw from your flurry
into a quietude

some invited
some not
come in between
you see
everyone singing
a song of their own

for whose falling apart
has life ever stopped
you walk
the roads that once were
together walked
you touch
taste
and suddenly
hesitate
without knowing why
in the whirlwind of wharing
and see then
the chill of things
shivering in the sinews of the wind

THE WOODEN BRIDGE

the pulse of the water flowing under me
throbs
nails holding my ribs together
flow in rust
to the fish
the sound of fins
no longer silvery

worms gnawing on my slats
drop their sound into the water
my fear becomes the crier
and screams:
watch out it`s collapsing

as the passers-by raise dust
my hollowed chest throbs
the discreet water
blabs on:
mind the collapsing bridge

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