Human Landscapes from my Datça

by Sarp Armağan Demiral

 

                              after Nâzım Hikmet

 

I.

Balıkçılar, sitting on empty milk crates,
                              cast their fishing rods
                              into the turquoise—
on their lips a thin strip
               of cigarette, the homely scent, tobacco
               in the morning air.
                              They are the most patient
humans I know. I want to say kolay gelsin
     as they hold the line
     steady like they would
     their children. Gentle. The promise of the new world
at their fingertips.
                              The sun not yet scorching,
                              just dawning—
a smile cracks a sun-kissed face
               as his line catches.

II.

Teyzeler, these shawl-covered women
                              remind me of being
                              held—
all of them a mother
               even if they do not have a child
               of their own. I want to say ellerinize sağlık
                              as they feed my spirit,
                              sunflower seeds
pinched between their plump fingers,
between their tea-stained teeth.
                              Teyzeler on the beachside benches,
                              gossip hot on their tongues.
Çıtır çıtır, the seeds crack open. Flung
    onto the uneven, faded bricks,
    painted by kindergarteners. A full landscape
               of sunflower shells
               around their slippers.

III.

Amcalar, filling the teahouses
                              before and after
                              work—
eight men to each table, chain smoking,
               playing okey and tavla ‘till midnight.
                              I’ve never been
               courageous enough to join them—
I want to say kusura bakmayın
               and yet, I’m terrified my tongue
               will twist to silence, my language
broken into stasis. I watch instead. It’s how I remember
                              my absence
in my country. All the things I don’t do.
               All the things I don’t say.

 

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