Poem by Leyla IŞIK
AH ASYA (I)
Hile swinging from one side to the other,
anchored in the darkness of the night, her naked body would make love to the drunk time.
Rough horsemen would ride on her vast hills,
as if they had triumphed from first to last. . .
After every triumph, in her big almond eyes her rains would well up into the bitter of blue
with her black destiny,
And every spring, Asya’s branches would come into bloom
With the purple bunches blooming for bitter in nooks.
She wouldn’t see the wounded seagulls flying to their freedom.
Her locked lips would keep silent towards inside of her.
She would keep silent to the oceans all around.
Whereas Asya. . .
was a continent fully stretched out to love.
Translated by Baki Yiğit