Gunsel DJEMAL

To: Huseyin Avni Dede We were not born in the right era Were behind the time Perhaps in the front When received the 960 insignia from Dede Our soul had

Sometimes the morning sun Midday my cheerfulness At dew fall my sorrows When I’m talking writing my thoughts In my brain firmly hidden secret Like my pen touching the paper My sadness becomes

Having a good time at horizon By spreading it’s scarlet Tulle curtain To the sea Woken-up from asleep The snow is insidious fox Troubled clouds Cross with each other; weeping Scattered

They said that “children had written it all”. I walked on it when no one was there the paints were written colourless On my wall I had scratched it with my nails Times had passed... And

I have stowed away my passion on the rump of pains I have sieved on my mother’s head-scarf breached fantasies… and washed in your eyes I had painted the horizon red leaking blood, from your

Wicked silence Will wreck your mood Today… Pensive smile on Your sea-gull lips… Mania anthem in your eyes Zephyr breeze in your voice Ready to blow/ tepid cold From your violin eye-brows

Tracking the time At the intervals of my pen Silent on paper Ready to explode For the poems Not letting go off my collar My pale-yellow room They know My loneliness/… Hey! Walls Stop

Who knows in forty six years? How many forty six My eyes touched lightly to your shores Istanbul. How many fort six steaming Welcomed Bostanci station With the rails symphony Until

in the apple of your eyes had drunk the sea bathed on the shores of your lips to my suffering your shoulder were a port for me in the stormy weather have found refuge and cooled in the

The man; as distressed His skies were melting Cloudburst in his eyes Jealous of the sea-gulls’ Misses running in the meadows When staring at the horizon Memories of his kite days; falling

if i were a sculptor i would have sat at the shores of Mediterranean before i started creating... and would insert my hands to your heart and hurt you, because you have lied to me Cyprus i had to

- I - with its black rebellious hair eyes are laden like one beautiful woman the moon is looking from the hilltop the sea has collected her glints and towed away verses are poem. - II

my passion…your honey leaking eyes… had left marks in my heart your cotton field palms when I kissed inflamed my lips your breath at the mild spring breeze... and when the clouds were striking at

MY LOVE - II - i am scared of approaching you i can’t tell/how desperately i want to make love to you i had slept at your bosom, touched your skirts sat at your peak… if there is no place

you look like a mountain/standing like no other grew-up in your bosom… i had known every stone, every rock, every spring, birds, worms, butterflies and jasmine plant, rosemary, and basil. i

clear water/in the night sky the stars are falling on me/… i choose one the smart moon is grinning from the end of their shoulders the clouds laid an ambush i have torn the white veil of the

the words don’t fit into the lines walking with my son and Birkan at İstiklal avenue is Liberty. Poem by: Atilla Elüstün 26.8.2004 - Taksim/İstanbul Translation by: Günsel Djemal-

for the first time and after months i’m drinking for your honour/lonely finally i’m cross with the moon i had drawn the curtains tightly not to spoil insisting saucy in between the

it’s late… i say! you’ve got lot’s of work to do in spite of İstanbul i’m abandoning thee, from my heart from my world i’m departing… taking my greedy loneliness saddled the pain on my

i’m not weak tonight/… the stars are bright even the full moon is sarcastic i am singing the oceans ballad standing determined and strong the mist will drift away by dawn when volcanos are

I am a pen sharper than the sword and only yours open your eyes wear your liberty on your face at the eternal cloudless tear into pieces the mystery of time haughty and madly take off their

have you ever thought? when it falls how it blights thy heart separation in one word merciless and mysterious the leaver doesn’t return weak and disloyal the one behind doesn\'t

unexpectedly last night the moon struck ineffectively upon my window i had made a promise to the sea were going to plant phosphorescence to its bossom ashamed; to approach my pockets are