Translated by Seda Suna Uçakan
The Bastard’s Year (II)
While reality was closer
With the effect of the first fallen word
I fell asleep, and
Then spiders kept my cave.
I waited for my slap
Accompanied by the prophets who
Do not tell a secret in their own voice
With their wise women and their placentas.
Baby bats are gnawing at my left ear,
Buzzing by the side of my left ear
A rising decibel of whispers is a divine psychosis.
xxxx
The Bastard’s Year (III)
With the effect of bursting alkaloids from hidden organs
the flood that blew out suddenly
is as fast as the waves
that spread out to the beaches at
1,500 km per hour
Wishing to sit with his brainpower
on the clouds of the tramps who are
evidence of the awning’s color change
on the balcony
the moment in which buildings start to
stand at attention,
the curse booming of the poets
who laugh until they fall over,
a boundless void into which is fallen
by fake smiles that don’t own any passion
and a long trip heads to the parallel universe,
grave that destroys the phenomenon of time
by sweating in parks and on empty benches
shaking, its jaw locked,
the butterfly which flutters around the candle,
“bong roulette” in “Tesadüf”[1]
trip fans who pass out in the holiest
level of friendship and listen to the bubbling sound
at six-thirty in the morning,
the holy generation who defend
their craziness to live freely
and hide their craziness to live freely
the last deer jumping on ice
the last worm appearing from the black hole
the last unshapely melting ice
Huxley’s holy island and the secret
we should breathe the last smoke deeply
or else how do we know this holy truth?
walk guys let’s go to the sky’s womb
that’s what wise Einstein wants
smiling of stars enraged.
xxxx
The last phase of sprouting seed
for Seda Suna
“I think therefore I am.”
I think therefore I am gone
How can bees leave their nests
The
letter
is flowing
like
a river
ivy
is dancing
clinging to
your hair’s curves
stars in its night. . .
waiting at the station of vicious cycle
The sea
the branch is falling in a deep crackling.
how can bees leave their nests
how the words are pale beside. . .
xxxx
Grave
cold flesh which bruised of its grief
is lying down its compasses are open
its bladder is censored
disturbed head with an anvil.
xxxx
[1] English: chance, coincidence, fortuity.
(Ozan Baygın uses the expression “bong roulette” to denote a game in which one can become drunk.
