Passing Through the Steppe

It is a vast steppe and
the night is frozen, icing
down my window silently.

It is snowing on the past,
no breaks.

Neither the Mediterranean
nor the sky, small as a palm
in my memory, remain.

Junction after junction,
cross-roads, all roads
vanish as I pass
through the steppe.

Ali F. Bilir

(Translated by M. Ali Sulutas
Edited in English by Susan Bright)

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