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)