DEATH IS MY NAME


i am the one who flows in the bosom of that city
the scream that whips the night
everlasting, unbroken

why are all the knives inlaid with nacre
why is a claret red rose like the cry of a dervish
why does it flow out of the lips so thunderously

yes, i know you are into blue, too
i know that the claret red rose reminded you of death
the flower of your song wilted

well, how should i put it
i am the one who flows in the bosom that city
i either place myself into your bloodshot eyes
or become a damn bullet in the streets

i am the one who flows in the bosom of that city
no matter how hard you try to hide my name in the letters
i am in all of the photographs
dog-eared, a bit sad

i am the one who flows in the bosom of that city
it's i who waits for you in the queues
the one who pops out anytime anywhere
in the dark corners
in the middle of the night
and behind any doors
it's i who waits for you

December 1981

Translated by Zeynep Akkus