Full Month in Istanbul

/, Blesok no. 94/Full Month in Istanbul

Full Month in Istanbul

Getting Dark in the East
A Flood
A Woman Who Craved Ice
Seesaw
Language
Populism
Advertisement for Death
Fragments about Photography

should one wake up young men
and head for the tunnel?
they are so laid-back,
eager to dodge any resistance.
guitars are much better,
dancers too above the plains.
adrenaline no longer lives at great heights:
it descended into scrotums,
hormonal refuge,
from there directions
and semantics to be cut out.
words that stay in the game,
young words from times immemorial,
those that bore meaning
and then not.
now their sprays sketch names
and pathos on walls
around galata and everywhere else.
the most beautiful language
is the one you do not understand.
there lies the truth and the future.
between the message and the meaning
nobody succeeds in raising a bridge.
the bridges over bosporus
resist symbols.
surgery is on the other side.
you excise something, add something.
bypass is of itself.
you stop,
buy a boat, and
go fishing.

Translated by Mario Susko

2018-08-21T17:22:39+00:00 March 2nd, 2014|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 94|0 Comments