by Ece Apaydin
For days I washed dirty clothes
on the coast of your voice
I lit fires - which their eyes are as big as almost their bodies -
I recognized trees
By combining their beaks, two sparrows
can stand without flying on the throw rug
I am within sorrel streams
on the way that I am squirming
From the bearing of the night to the morning
from the crashing of the stone to the stone
and from the brick color yellow warmth
of the streets
I am waiting for an encounter for both of us.
ECE APAYDIN
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Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz
Last updated June 12, 2016