By Gonca Ozmen
Translated by Alice Melike Ülgezer and Özlem Özmetin

 

It was your mouth

 

nude wall

secret door.

 

It was your mouth

 

that left traces of unborn verses.

 

Wild herbs alone changed the elements

I saw  -  the leaves of your mouth,

tasted the bitterness, the hurt

 

It was your mouth,

like fallen walnut trees

 

that gathered all the voices and fled.

 

It was your mouth

 

my street waif

my absent sky.

 

It was your mouth

 

and we were still children in our love making

 

            (between two games).

 

Click here to listen to Gonca Özmen reading this poem in Turkish on Lyrikline.org.