…To Mehmet Atay[1]
The pain of separation
I repress
with tobacco.
A red-hot sun setting
over the waters of the Bosphorus
wraps the pain of Istanbul
around my heart.
I encountered a very few
wise men, as I searched
for my essential self
in the stories of Promeheus
and Sisyphus.
I was chained for
writing a poem of freedom.
I carried, without reluctance, hope
on the wings of words.
[1]Mehmet Atay is an editor and publisher in Turkey