here, lemon grass

lemon grass in September’s haste
grows impatient
for you to sense
its ready scent …

on the white wall,
the Judas tree
somehow opens into cloud
instead of flower…

there,
as cloud opens:
the wall,
as if sky…

on this shore,
whatever may be or not,
there’s always a tulip…

Hilmi Yavuz
Translated by George Messo

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Filed under Turkish Poetry, World Literature

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