You don’t know how it is,
or do you know how it is,
due to all the tension
in morbid rushing
salvos exhilarate
through the air
and fearful glimpses
are replaced
with resignation?

Do you know it?
Do you not know it?
You don’t know it, of course you don’t.

I’m happy for you.

You don’t have to know it.
You don’t have to understand.
What, you want to understand me?

Balad and gurbet and home…
Words full of melancholy,
that you don’t understand,
neither the words,
nor the melancholy,
nor Arabic,
nor Turkish.

I speak German
and I don’t understand myself.

What do you know.
You’re not supposed to understand me,
before I have understood myself.
Maybe there is nothing left to understand.
I chill, therefore I am free,
free from thoughts,
I don’t give thanks
for the çay on the table
and the sun in my back.

The warmth pushes forward
through the state of shock.
day for day anew.

Oh no, ciddimisin, bala shu?
Don’t try again
to understand me
to control me
to take away the çay and the sun,
to confuse understanding with potato salad,
I don’t need your pity anymore.

Chill with me, be you, be here
Whether meze or sweet potato fries,
Whether I want it or not, be simply you.
When I am not anymore,
when the çay is cold and the sun, shams,
eğer güneş gökyüzünün arkasında batarsa,
be there.

Cansev Duru