A whole long day I watched the sea. Great sea.
Storms gathered in. I sat and chiseled out
a skiff. A road lapped its way to the sea,
later going down behind Pazardağ. Barely seen.
A Greek ship off shore was slowing, putting anchor down.
Aganta! I shouted suddenly. The sea echoed back.
The city was water. Water everywhere. Water, water, water.
I threw a fish into the air and the skiff bowed under me.
– The day’s shortened, air sharp as a knife! I said.
Then I got up and headed off for Threewells Street.
Translated by George Messo
Taken from İkinci Yeni: The Trukish Avant-Garde, 2009, published by Shearsman Books.