Gurgenc Korkmazel
from Yolyutma
Stavrogonno
There is no King, only the record of seven tongues
Even if history could smell
as fresh as the newly-skinned deer pelt –
The old have been buried and boarding ships
the young have gone to rainier islands.Vine-yards and orchards have taken over those abandoned places
Goose-sized hens scratch the soil
unearthing the rusty tools of memoirsThe Saint of the little chapel under the cross
irises and Lusignan treasures lost for ever
lie in the same valley.
Since the village was abandoned
crazy goats wander on rooftops overgrown with grass.
Translated by Aydin Mehmet Ali
Page(s) 197
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