From a letter

You with sweeping vines for a waist,
I frown that my hand, my tongue would touch

you, and your sweeping vines that bear
their solid, moist grapes.
 

Your lips would kiss in the water

the reflection of your lips,
 

when you were still your only lover,

and had never known a man.

 

The foaming sea resembles you

when it reaches to the sun;
 

were I a cloud, I would abduct you;

were I fish, I'd swim away.

And when the seagulls beat at you

their muscled, perfect wings,

why does my heart climb

to my mouth, why do my insides turn to eyes,

to eyes that spin towards you?

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Mektup'tan by Ercüment Behzat Lav

Translated September 26, 2020

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