hibernação

poemas para a hibernação e para dias ao vento.

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Red pomegranate, juicy
swollen with seeds and memories
falls with the moon
into the hands of naked children.

Tahar Ben Jelloun

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Talk

You never hear it
but at breakfast the sweetest talk
is between the jam and the honey.

Gökhan Tok

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Sand

the handful of sand that I'm holding means
I'm holding in my hand
the bottom storms,
the tossed seaweed
a big fish descending deeper silently.

Salih Bolat

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Mr. Ahmet's Shoes

He'd spare his shoes and wouldn't walk in them
Every evening he'd clean them for the next day

He'd knock at their bottoms and listen to the sound
He'd say this is pure French leather

His shoes had a special brush and cloth
He'd always keep them clean inside and out

Every evening as soon as he got home he'd put on his slippers
His only concern in life ws his shoes

He'd set out with a bismillalr and walk on asphalt roads
He knew that this shoe nation would rot in snow waters

The shoes had their place reserved next to the door
Poor Mr. Ahmet would put them side by side

He'd say, "These shoes will last for so may more years."
He'd say so but infortunately his life did not last that long

They did not throw his shoes away
Nor did they sell them to anyone as the shoes had great memories.

Kemalettin Tuğcu

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from "For the Photographs of Constantine Manos"

You, the child thinking in front of his home!
You will grow up one day.
You too will have a living room, your threshold will hold shoes
You too will have a house you clean with a broom.

If they ask you to take the picture of time
What would you take, the light , the stairs,
My granny with her walking stick, or the little girl on the stone
Or the stone, the texture of the wall, or the odor of the air?

Ali Cenzizkan

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todos do livro The Space Between our Footsteps, Poems and Paintings from the Middle East.