Every part of me has grown accustomed to drinking
Water that will one day run off.

Going! I’ve written that down in my notebook for ages.
Quays, the threads of autumn, lots of other things—
Where I am is a mess.

Sour cherries, horses, stars.
Stars, dense woods, small-town diners,
Talk that has stayed the same for years.
We can’t find anything new to say.

Hotels, hotels—I’m guilty of that neglect.
I can’t even pass their doors anymore.

You’re nature. And you wait for me, don’t I know it.
For my voice, my dreams, my broken fingers,
And whatever else of mine there is.

You, you’re nature. You’re nature, recreate me,
Loneliness enclosing my loneliness.


Translated from the Turkish by Richard Tillinghast and Julia Clare Tillinghast