To the Writers of Asia and Africa

Brothers and sisters,
never mind my blond hair,
I am an Asian;
never mind my blue eyes,
I am and African.
The trees do not offer much shade in my country
                     just as in yours;
         the bread is in the lion’s mouth,
         dragons sleep on fountain tops,
         people die before they are fifty in my country
                         just as in yours.
Never mind my blond hair,
I am an Asian;
never mind my blue eyes,
I am an African.

Eighty percent of my people can’t read or write;
poems spread as songs from mouth to mouth;
poems may turn into flags in my country
                    just as yours.

Brothers and sisters,
let our poems, paired with a feeble ox, plough the land;
let them walk into a swampy rice field up to their knees;
let them ask all the questions;
let them harvest all the lights.

22 Ocak 1962
Tr. by Cahit Baylav