Saturday, January 14, 2012


(image by Gayecim)

Troco horas de sono por
uma memória de você
descendo a Aslantepe cad
no outono antes de ver
os navios cruzando o Bósforo
- a peça que faltava num quebra-cabeça
há muito perdido,
eu a encontrei num envelope amarelado.

Você vê o mundo como um homem
pronto para construir um barco,
ou um destino,
mas Godot nunca vem.

Me pergunto se as ruas em Malatya
mudaram muito desde o meu último sonho:
éramos jovens e espirituosos
poderíamos ter ido a qualquer parte,
fizemos escolhas.

I trade sleeping hours for a memory of you
walking down Aslantepe cad in the fall,
before watching ships crossing the Bosphorus
- the missing piece in an old puzzle
I’ve thought lost,
I find it inside a yellowish envelope.

You stand as a man ready to build a boat
and a destiny,
but Godot never comes.

I wonder whether the streets in Malatya
changed since I last dreamed of them:
we were young and enthusiastic,
we could have gone anywhere,
we made our choices.

(guys, sorry for word verification but I was having serious trouble with spam)


  1. Beautiful, wistful, sad. You always write well.

  2. Love that first line! This fills my mind with sepia-tone pictures.

    1. (I love it that blogger now allows individual replies! Yay!)

      Laura! I can send you a picture if you want. :-)

      Thanks for stopping by!

  3. Your words fill me with longing for parts unknown: the urge to find myself besides the Bosphorus, lost in ancient alleyways.

  4. The ending of this leaves me with a feeling of stirred up memories and a hint of melancholy. So beautifully written Kenia, I really enjoy your words. x


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