elegy for bruised poetry
outside the wind gently flips its hair
moving toward the vastness of the blue
in sky-abyss
outside the water in its riverbed
flows into the depth of seas
the leaf greens on its branch
then withers into yellow
children, the birds of sky
sinless
they depict life with the tongue
of weeping willows
workers descend into the mines for
the sound of labor to reverberate through the depth
the inherent blindness of the processed ore
diminishes the compassion of the working hand
with the boneless tongue of iron, bronze, and rage
lives are lost to wars in distant countries
the poisonous fruits of the gardens nearby
hunger first hits children
the sky darkens with women’s sighs
and the white dignity of salt
covers the rotting flesh of innocence
Translation from the Turkish