Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Şükrü Erbaş

SOLITARY ATLAS

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Those hours when god becomes man
Those hours when the leaves mouth prayers
Those hours when dreams touch the world
Those hours when separation drips from eye lashes
Those hours when desire blazes in resignation
Those hours when beds are spread out on stars
Those hours when streets turn to ponds in rooms
Those hours when stones are painted in sleep…

The mottled ant of sorrow and pleasure in me
A long path passing through a forest in a fairy-tale
In my body, the worldly whims of the wells
On my brow, a charcoal sketch of the future
My mouth, a song with clipped wings
A solitary atlas of two blurred times
A hotel room made of tear candles
Sea gardens where even the sand blooms…

I loved you. I loved you. I loved you.

TENHA ATLAS

TENHA ATLAS

Sessizlik. Sessizlik. Sessizlik.

Tanrının insan olduğu saatler
Yaprakların dua ettiği saatler
Rüyaların dünyaya değdiği saatler
Ayrılığın kirpiklere geldiği saatler
Arzunun vazgeçişle tutuştuğu saatler
Yatakların yıldızlara serildiği saatler
Sokakların odalarda göllendiği saatler
Taşların uykulara boyandığı saatler…

İçimde hazla kederin ebruli karıncası
Ormanlardan masal almış bir uzun yol
Kuyuların dünya hevesi gövdemde
Alnımda karakalem bir gelecek resmi
Ağzım kanatları kesik şarkılar
İki bulanık zamandan bir tenha atlas
Gözyaşı mumlarından bir otel odası
Kumların çiçek açtığı deniz bahçeleri…

Seni sevdim. Seni sevdim. Seni sevdim.
Close

SOLITARY ATLAS

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Those hours when god becomes man
Those hours when the leaves mouth prayers
Those hours when dreams touch the world
Those hours when separation drips from eye lashes
Those hours when desire blazes in resignation
Those hours when beds are spread out on stars
Those hours when streets turn to ponds in rooms
Those hours when stones are painted in sleep…

The mottled ant of sorrow and pleasure in me
A long path passing through a forest in a fairy-tale
In my body, the worldly whims of the wells
On my brow, a charcoal sketch of the future
My mouth, a song with clipped wings
A solitary atlas of two blurred times
A hotel room made of tear candles
Sea gardens where even the sand blooms…

I loved you. I loved you. I loved you.

SOLITARY ATLAS

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Those hours when god becomes man
Those hours when the leaves mouth prayers
Those hours when dreams touch the world
Those hours when separation drips from eye lashes
Those hours when desire blazes in resignation
Those hours when beds are spread out on stars
Those hours when streets turn to ponds in rooms
Those hours when stones are painted in sleep…

The mottled ant of sorrow and pleasure in me
A long path passing through a forest in a fairy-tale
In my body, the worldly whims of the wells
On my brow, a charcoal sketch of the future
My mouth, a song with clipped wings
A solitary atlas of two blurred times
A hotel room made of tear candles
Sea gardens where even the sand blooms…

I loved you. I loved you. I loved you.

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère