Photograph

The four of us were taken in the park,
Me, Orhan, Oktay, Şinasi too…
It seems to be autumn
Some of us in coats, some in jackets
The trees behind us are leafless…
Oktay’s father hasn’t yet died,
I don’t have a moustache,
Orhan hasn’t yet met Süleyman Efendi.

But I never was that gloomy;
What is it in this picture that recalls death?
Still, we’re all alive.

Melih Cevdet Anday
Translated by George Messo

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Filed under Poetry of the Middle East, Turkish Poetry, World Literature

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