Serpil Devrim born in 1960 in İstanbul. Many of her poems and short stories were published in different anthologies and literature magazines in Turkey , translated different languages and published literature magazines in different countries around the world. She is a member of the PEN İnternational Writers Association in Turkey.
I’ve Got Nothing To Say the voice of a crying childinside my brainI just lookI’ve got nothing to sayNot a sentence to formnot an apologynot to guts to dare I fell silientI watchedI stood in the frontYour height up to my kneeand the fear in your eyescouldn’t stop meneither could your thin neck I drummed into your headthe terror and the violenceRipped-off hands and legstorn apart faceswith lined up corpsesyou sleeping without satiationyou waking up shiveringit’s my civilized art among the wrecksas the fire goes upyour scream won’t get to meI am the one to drop bombsand demolish your housewith tank, cannon and rifleit’s my bloody handsthat stole your childhoodfrom far away the voice of a crying childinside my brainI just look I’ve got nothing to saynot a sentence to fromnot an apologynot the guts to dare The Dead Poet the dead poet is a river exiled from its bedits gurgle is without foot or rhyme its flow is the linear of existence the path it knows is courageous and open water takes the form of the container dress the form of the body in it and the chewn bits the form of the mouth the bed of the poet for the outbursts is like the narrow Aegean shores the Cretan promontory its two sides are the song of goats and a lyric poem blessed with immortality on the land of the dead its heart never decays the river exiled from its bed stripped of its privacy it brings down stars from the skyand bathes in its own water it's hilly and rocky when seen from the sea when seen from the land there are crazy blue waves only with their hard-line freedom it sweeps before itself the ways landless peasants walk on and the aid sailors seek it grows out of the labors of workers and splitters and lies next to dead children decapitated at each war it had sad eyes at each break up it gurgles to death with fragile loves at its core Where To! The land hid itself İt didn’t have a mountain to take shelter in From the mind it among bandages his the skin With which it has long been mingling And the mind from the life ‘’Let the oldest who staps The life with her seal speak!’’ I used to say, let her ask the truth İt doesn’t matter, they are all the same The oldest fossil, a reptile Or a living millenarian olive tree The one who creates life a burning fireball ‘’you were involved in every trick of the day There remained nowhere to touch, where to!’’ You saw inside the fair tents The night messengers The wizards who hold shrouds at hand The watchers of the stars who don’t sleep a wink The charlatans who set games With their elephant bodies and eagle talons And witnessed the one who scares Fire with water, water with fire You were involved in every trick of the night, Where to! For exactly this reason I couldn’t like the humans that mind can’t nurture And the darkness of the night I stood by the coolness Of early mornings That run like colorful horses Kissing the earth and placing the heavens on my head I took down The skyscrapers that block the sky The trifling stories And the concrete jungles With their humans the fools of harem I created a mountain fort the land to take shelter inAs stupendous as the head carrying a crown I passed another spring cloud to praise Through the ancient cities Primitive and innocence by their primitiveness Whoese ruins are under the water İn my deep sleeps I pictured Love and the face of my beloved Adorned them with colors and odors I didn’t consider my beloved a stranger For the water to object and the fire to opposeTo the evils and death Unaided by the conscious