1.
The sound of nightingales, of ripening strawberries
the weak morning tea
in his hand extended towards me
the incited ease
but we got used to living like culprits
where, oh, where should one hide it
Our souls which he closed we closed tightly
touched one another (for the first time?)
flattening out the sea vanished
in a dream we were, if it weren’t for the sound of fishermen’s boats
2.
the mountains lilac-colored and dark
kept approaching and overcame us
we were lost we were in the lost country
we touched the silence with the wing of a sparrow
we denounced
the sky, the heavy clouds, the bay
we denounced that which sank and vanlshed
the evening, going past the old voices of the neighbors
drew us in
with the taste of yogurt and apple
Gülten Akın, “Tea” (English translation: Suat Karantay)
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
Gülten Akın, “Çay”
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
Gülten Akın, “Tea” (English translation: Neil P. Doherty)
