by CAN YÜCEL
All my life I loved my father best of all.
The way a child sprouting like gorse from a cliff,
With legs bowed - about to tumble any minute -
Would run in the trail of a giant,
That's how I loved that philandering father of mine.
What neighbourhood we lived in, he could never say:
Always busy, in a rush; if he dropped by, he'd dash away,
I'd look up in my atlas the places for which he'd depart:
That way I learned exile and longing by heart.
How I'd fly with joy: sickness was the best ...
If my fever zoomed past 40, they'd call him to Istanbul,
After all, wouldn't he want to bid farewell to his son?
Ours was a love game: when typhoid fever struck, I won:
I said Ohh, and buried my nose in his chest.
Until he went on the inspection tour that was his last,
I ran after that giant flying to heaven,
For other kinds of passion, for loves so vast
My breath opened up, my mind, my inmost soul.
All my life I loved my father best of all.
Translated by Talat HALMAN
1 comment:
how beautiful..a bit sad but beautiful..."Ours was a love game: when typhoid fever struck, I won:
I said Ohh, and buried my nose in his chest." this was my favorite part of it all..i feel somehwat identified by it...
God bless!
Rita
Post a Comment