Return

Time and words taste
of brine and dry bread.

Wine may go to my head,
but I know one thing: you have camped
in my soul and my spirit will not be damped
but like the flame at Olympos
it will flare again, though all may seen impossible.

Richard McKane, The Turkey Poems, YKY-Istanbul-1994, p. 88. Read more...Thank you!

The Ferry Boat Churned White Foam

The ferry boat churned white foam
by the bridge. The pavement rose and fell
with the swell. I was in Istanbul
when I should have been in London.

Looking over the Horn at Topkapı Saray.
Hearing the hooting of ships' sirens
and the chug of the engines and the background
roar of traffic beneath.

Hundreds of kites flying in the sky
on reels of string held by children's hands.
In the dawn the walls were like the battlements
of some extended mediaeval castle.

Richard McKane, The Turkey Poems (Türkiye Şiirleri), YKY-Istanbul-1994, p. 64.

Read more...Thank you!