The Chinese soldier

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Inside me. In the yellow green
meadow, the floods of spring
become the night's sadness

and swell out of my room.
Inside me. A thousand straw hats
and the sun that burns the string
instrument of poetry.
It sings me. My heart.
It sings the song of me.

The red punctures the black.
It burns the

earth burns the earth
the red tears the black
at the end of my cigarette.
                   Goodbye I say
to the daylight. My night
my night begins, it brings
me the rain, brings Vivaldi.
I say nothing. I write poetry.
The red pricks the black
at the end of my cigarette,
it burns your hands
and the earth and my forehead.

Inside me. By the pond the children
the wild children by the pond
I sing the song of distances,
the world turns and my heart
turns to children, thousands of children.
My heart. It sings.
                    Goodbye I say
to the rain, to you,
the red disturbs the black
at the end of my cigarette,
burning your hands

and the earth and my forehead.
Inside me. The Chinese soldier
and his distance I know it. I know him.
 

 

Çin Askeri Ah Devran by Egemen Berköz

Translated April 6, 2020

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