Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Gülten Akın

TEA

The sound of nightingales, of flushing strawberries
in his hand held out to me
weak morning tea
agitated ease
somehow we had grown used to living like culprits

where, where should we hide them
our souls that he closed we closed tightly
now (for the first time?) brush off one another
the sea flattened out flattened out and disappeared
we in a dream, but for the sound of the boats of the fishermen
the mountains dark and violet
surely so surely they approached and overran us
we the lost in the land of the lost
brushed
silence with the wing of a sparrow

we denied
the sky, the heavy clouds, the bay
all that sank without a trace
the evening, passing through the old voices of the neighbors
in the taste of apple and yoghurt

drew us down into the depths

ÇAY

ÇAY

Bülbüllerin, kızaran çileklerin sesi
bana doğru uzanmış elindeki
açık sabah çayı
kışkırtılan gönenç
suçlu gibi yaşamaya alıştık biz oysa

onu nereye nereye saklamalı
yıllarca sımsıkı kapattığı kapattığımız
ruhlarımız (ilk mi) birbirine değdi
düzleşe düzleşe yitti deniz
düşteydik, teknelerin sesi balıkçılar olmasa


dağlar eflatun ve kara
gitgide yaklaşarak üstümüze geldi
yittik yitik ülkedeydik
değdik
kırlangıcın kanadıyla sessizliğe

reddettik
göğü, ağır bulutları, koyu
batıp gideni reddettik
akşam, yaşlı seslerinden geçerek komşuların
yoğurdun ve elmanın tadıyla

bizi derinine aldı
Close

TEA

The sound of nightingales, of flushing strawberries
in his hand held out to me
weak morning tea
agitated ease
somehow we had grown used to living like culprits

where, where should we hide them
our souls that he closed we closed tightly
now (for the first time?) brush off one another
the sea flattened out flattened out and disappeared
we in a dream, but for the sound of the boats of the fishermen
the mountains dark and violet
surely so surely they approached and overran us
we the lost in the land of the lost
brushed
silence with the wing of a sparrow

we denied
the sky, the heavy clouds, the bay
all that sank without a trace
the evening, passing through the old voices of the neighbors
in the taste of apple and yoghurt

drew us down into the depths

TEA

The sound of nightingales, of flushing strawberries
in his hand held out to me
weak morning tea
agitated ease
somehow we had grown used to living like culprits

where, where should we hide them
our souls that he closed we closed tightly
now (for the first time?) brush off one another
the sea flattened out flattened out and disappeared
we in a dream, but for the sound of the boats of the fishermen
the mountains dark and violet
surely so surely they approached and overran us
we the lost in the land of the lost
brushed
silence with the wing of a sparrow

we denied
the sky, the heavy clouds, the bay
all that sank without a trace
the evening, passing through the old voices of the neighbors
in the taste of apple and yoghurt

drew us down into the depths
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère