Poem
Mustafa Köz
SPRING RAIN IN AFTERNOON
Language is a house, from a dream we enter every house.Language is a warehouse, forty shackles on every closet.
Language is salt, a beggar at every door.
Language is earth, a vineyard in every grape.
Language is wind, magma heat in every breeze.
Language is fire, a lodger in every blaze.
Language is water, a mirror for every rope.
Language is desert, a shirt in every well.
Language is a bee, a thousand sons for every temptation.
Language is a dress, a pearl button for every word.
Language is forest, bloody trees in your mouth.
Language is bread, with yeast and with flour.
Language is a cloud, a tower of silence.
Language is flesh, rubbed with celandine.
Language is a season, a summer that comes after a summer.
Language is a shadow, a black horse we ride.
Language is a shepherd, a leather bag with four knots.
Language is a wicker basket, growing lighter with crushed thyme
Language is a shiver when my master becomes my apprentice.
Language is a street, from there you enter a house.
KIRKİKİNDİ YAĞMURU
KIRKİKİNDİ YAĞMURU
Dil evdir, her eve bir hayalden girilir.Dil ambardır, her yüklükte kırk kilit.
Dil tuzdur, her kapıda dilenci.
Dil rüzgârdır, her esinti bir magma.
Dil topraktır, her korukta bağ bahçe.
Dil ateştir, her yangına kiracı.
Dil sudur, her urgan görür kendin orada.
Dil çöldür, her kuyuda bir gömlek.
Dil arıdır, her naza binbir oğul.
Dil giysidir, her sözcük sedef düğme.
Dil ormandır, kanlı ağaçlar ağızda.
Dil ekmektir, mayailen unilen.
Dil buluttur, sessizliğin kulesi.
Dil tendir, ovulmuş kırlangıçotuyla.
Dil mevsimdir, yazdan sonra yine yaz.
Dil gölgedir, kara atımız bizim.
Dil çobandır, dört düğümlü dağarcık.
Dil seledir, ezik kekikle yeğni.
Dil yongadır, ustam çırağ olursa.
Dil sokaktır, ordan eve çıkılır.
© 2004, Mustafa Koz
From: Açık Yara
Publisher: Alkım Yayınları,
From: Açık Yara
Publisher: Alkım Yayınları,
Poems
Poems of Mustafa Köz
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SPRING RAIN IN AFTERNOON
Language is a house, from a dream we enter every house.Language is a warehouse, forty shackles on every closet.
Language is salt, a beggar at every door.
Language is earth, a vineyard in every grape.
Language is wind, magma heat in every breeze.
Language is fire, a lodger in every blaze.
Language is water, a mirror for every rope.
Language is desert, a shirt in every well.
Language is a bee, a thousand sons for every temptation.
Language is a dress, a pearl button for every word.
Language is forest, bloody trees in your mouth.
Language is bread, with yeast and with flour.
Language is a cloud, a tower of silence.
Language is flesh, rubbed with celandine.
Language is a season, a summer that comes after a summer.
Language is a shadow, a black horse we ride.
Language is a shepherd, a leather bag with four knots.
Language is a wicker basket, growing lighter with crushed thyme
Language is a shiver when my master becomes my apprentice.
Language is a street, from there you enter a house.
From: Açık Yara
SPRING RAIN IN AFTERNOON
Language is a house, from a dream we enter every house.Language is a warehouse, forty shackles on every closet.
Language is salt, a beggar at every door.
Language is earth, a vineyard in every grape.
Language is wind, magma heat in every breeze.
Language is fire, a lodger in every blaze.
Language is water, a mirror for every rope.
Language is desert, a shirt in every well.
Language is a bee, a thousand sons for every temptation.
Language is a dress, a pearl button for every word.
Language is forest, bloody trees in your mouth.
Language is bread, with yeast and with flour.
Language is a cloud, a tower of silence.
Language is flesh, rubbed with celandine.
Language is a season, a summer that comes after a summer.
Language is a shadow, a black horse we ride.
Language is a shepherd, a leather bag with four knots.
Language is a wicker basket, growing lighter with crushed thyme
Language is a shiver when my master becomes my apprentice.
Language is a street, from there you enter a house.
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