the rain is coming
you’d better open the umbrella
the knees of your dead father are aching
his finger is about to touch
on the ring of the door of the son
a kid, a hanky of cherry,
the sounds on the way
close, within them
each death is a revival
say remediless leave your body hey heart
become an island, you, I said don’t shelter
oh son, your dead father is sitting
under the umbrella
I am no one
I got soaked under the rain
and solely run dry
with the words of mine
now I am kissing the rain
saying goodbye to this city
The city is the station of both the landlord
and the passenger oh son
the rain is coming
the umbrella…


Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)

we used to shorten a street by talking
in a wine cup to each other
escaping the tempered sadness
to each other like lips

through a night as far as fire and ice
we stayed, like a meteor falling in water
waiting for morning in alert
door, window, glass, feeling the wind

all were trembling like candle light
roof, stable will slump, rails are ratty
we knew, and looked the double row
palms, street, wine, lips.


Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)

neither do I have a rosebay to touch
nor a sky to love
only I have is a street
that I pass through the revery

my heart is like a ridgeway
that I fold myself its end
a hanky, my lover, lace is north wind
from which my tears pour nacres


Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)

your eyes are so silent, a butterfly
flowing inside me, like a velure river
an underground city, a station
where words by-pass

a gillyflower diminishing when smelt
a sky wearing the lover out in me
maybe we are living to lose
this eternity, we two


Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)