Kiss me, then give birth to me

It is shame that now adorns
the wheat-ears of blond children.

The blinded smell of lilacs
turns our little sun from the fields.

It swells from homes and porches
and makes its home in my voice.

The little bird of my voice
the mottled bird of it.

And the wind, like ivory: to the birds.
A mountain: the sun's bones.

The child of the sea is large
among the wooden statues.

Blood I see and stone
among all the statues.

No fig-milk seeps into

warm nightmares, into the hive

of nightmares, of the absence of sleep.

My mother died when I was very young
kiss me, and then give birth to me.

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Beni Öp, Sonra Doğur Beni by Cemal Süreya

Translated May 12, 2020

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