Letters to Taranta-Babu V.

To see
           to hear
                       to feel
                                   to think
                                                to speak
to run without stopping,
to run
       
         oh, to run
                        Taranta-Babu
                                  heeeeey!

To hell with it all
                         what a beautiful
                                  thing
it is to be alive!

Think of me
while my arms embrace your wide hips
          mother to my tree children,
think of the sound of a naked drop of water
             dropping on a black stone.

Think of the colour
          the flesh, the name of the fruit
you like most,
think of its taste in your eyes
          of the red red sun,
                        pure green grass
                        and of the huge blue blue ray
blossoming fort from the moon.
Think, Taranta-Babu:
man’s
          heart
                 mind
                         and arm
have pulled from the seventh depth
                                                 of the Earth
and shaped so many fire-eyed, steel gods
who now can destroy the world
                         with a single blow;
the pomegranate that fruits one in one year
           can fruit one thousand;
and the world is so large
so beautiful
                  and the shores so infinite
that at night we can lie on the sand
                 and hear the starred water.
How wonderful it is to be alive
                                              Taranta-Babu
                   how wonderful Life is!
To understand it as a masterpiece
to hear it as a song of love
and to live like a child wondering,
to live
          on by one
                          but all together
as if weaving the most wonderful silk cloth.
Ah, to live...
But how odd, Taranta-Babu
nowadays
‘this incredibly beautiful activity’
this most joyful feel of all things
has become
so  difficult
so narrow
so bloody
                undignified.

Tr. from the Turkish by Taner Baybars