Three poems by Serpil Devrim

03 May 2019
Author :  

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 child
inside my brain
I just look
I’ve got nothing to say
Not a sentence to form
not an apology
not to guts to dare
 
I fell silient
I watched
I stood in the front
Your height up to my knee
and the fear in your eyes
couldn’t stop me
neither could your thin neck
 
 
I drummed into your head
the terror and the violence
Ripped-off hands and legs
torn apart faces
with lined up corpses
you sleeping without satiation
you waking up shivering
it’s my civilized art
 
among the wrecks
as the fire goes up
your scream won’t get to me
I am the one to drop bombs
and demolish your house
with tank, cannon and rifle
it’s my bloody hands
that stole your childhood
from far away
 
the voice of a crying child
inside my brain
I just look 
I’ve got nothing to say
not a sentence to from
not an apology
not the guts to dare
 
 
The Dead Poet
 
the dead poet is a river exiled from its bed
its 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 sky
and 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 in
As 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 oppose
To the evils and death 
Unaided by the conscious
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