Kiss me, then give birth to me


It is shame that adorns
the wheat of blond children.

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

It swells from homes and porches
to make 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 cub of the sea lies large
among the wooden statues.

Blood I see and stone
among all the statues,
no sweet fig fills the comb
of warm nightmares,
weak nightmares, of the absence of sleep.

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

Beni Öp, Sonra Doğur Beni by Cemal Süreya

Translated May 12, 2020