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