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: for the birds.
A mountain: the sun's bones.

The child of the sea stands 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

​