Istanbul is wandering on my forehead
the seagulls are flying from my chest
the clouds of the longing on their eyes
the dream showers on my eyelashes
As I compose the poems of the sorrows
pile on my letters the greetings of the fellows
the pipes urges my heart
istanbul doesn’t shelter in my heart
What wraps my shoulders are the shawls of the separation
pours down on me the coolness of the night
you were crippled by how many bends that your wound doesn’t bleed
a light grabbles our memories
It is fall that caresses the hairs of our lives
when my eyes touch the tree on black and white
of a photograph, my mind is scattered
the leaves of the love surround my heart
My loneliness cut out from the cloth of the sorrow
is the pages of the summer, which are not closed
not death, a hope, what my tongue says, anyhow
wait for my youth, you are my longing oh istanbul.
Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
Istanbul is wandering on my forehead
the seagulls are flying from my chest
the clouds of the longing on their eyes
the dream showers on my eyelashes
As I compose the poems of the sorrows
pile on my letters the greetings of the fellows
the pipes urges my heart
istanbul doesn’t shelter in my heart
What wraps my shoulders are the shawls of the separation
pours down on me the coolness of the night
you were crippled by how many bends that your wound doesn’t bleed
a light grabbles our memories
It is fall that caresses the hairs of our lives
when my eyes touch the tree on black and white
of a photograph, my mind is scattered
the leaves of the love surround my heart
My loneliness cut out from the cloth of the sorrow
is the pages of the summer, which are not closed
not death, a hope, what my tongue says, anyhow
wait for my youth, you are my longing oh istanbul.
Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)
