(Translated from Turkish to English by Koray Feyiz)




The globe got carried away by the flood

when everyone was sleeping one night.


The laughter and the crying was different for the continents

         back then,

how their loves and hatred are the same now.


The children liked wooden toys once,

wooden car, wooden horse, wooden house, wooden garden...

         they are dying away now on steels that pierce the sky.


Making love had a different charm in caves once

we chose our own color: woman and man

now everyone making love is a desert island

it will not meet between the waters now.


Poverty didnít hurt women even in bad days

men and children looked the same

as the waters intrude, the houses will become more decayed


the uneasiness and fear that will come to us

will take away the roofs as well as the garden floors this flood.


the globe got carried away by the flood; the night and sleep are deeper now.



(Praise to a Distant Time, Can Yayınları, Istanbul 2006)



         * * *



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz









Introduce yourself to me eternal night


that first garden of youth you gave away

in which bottom of hell does it reside now?


From which pairing did your loneliness give birth?

You hurled away all your stars

that black sheet that stretches over you


you stole your blood from your own body

you protected your water with your own thorns

life was a banned hunt

you felt its pain from the deep

the hunter that never tires, the river that loves to run

the stars that you hurled away

will lodge on to your chest one by one


the fresh blood that left the wound

will cover time,


surrender to me, eternal night.


(Praise to a Distant Time, Can Yayınları, Istanbul 2006)



* * *



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz








Time passes by like the window forgotten to be closed

like the reflection of nakedness through the window.


Time passes by like the way a man looks at a woman

like life withdrawing to a corner


Time passes by like a woman looking after herself

like a train not finding the station.


Time passes by like the mirror that is smashed

like a dream that becomes complete.


Time passes by like the rose that shivers

like a woman that is self indulgent.


Time passes by like forgetting the time

like in the timing of forgetting.


Time passes by like banning separation

like hiding remorse.


Time passes by delaying a scream

like a delay turning into a scream.


Time passes by like the murder hour going off

like life being attached to death.


(The Scale of Crooked Memories, Can Yayınları, Istanbul 2001)



* * *


Translated  by  Koray Feyiz








The beginning of a love:

The chipping of a hard tree with a soul

a key slowly opens nature,

a la sound starts the hurricane

the ill-tempered wind draws its knife

quickly turns the worn out page:

the beginning of a love.


Whatever creeps into a thin branch

the chill will show it around in its heart,

the passengers after the last light

will hang life at the end of a day,

the song they start with a low voice:

the beginning of a love.


Losing oneself during solitary times

and those that wait for the end of the light

always meet the rain with joy

that is the only thing they know those who know life

attaching a torn page to its place:

the beginning of a love.


Every beauty that is forgotten doesnít meddle with the past,

some are included to new beauties

for this reason, the last love is the most loved,

all the beauties that are combined within itself,

the rivers, the oceans, the endless rain

that brings it to your door one autumn day!

At times like this itís nice to wake up with a song,

the la sound will shake your dream as it continues in a thin way,

when a womanís foot touches the water:

the beginning of a love.


With the relish of rising chests under silk

new beginnings of lovemaking that reached a peak

will encompass the whole of life,

the bug that made that strange rustle

looked at every corner

         will be considered as meaningless,

the lights that reflect hurt by breakingÖ

the furnishings all mixed together,

happiness must have lost itself in the cellar;

taking such a painting with care from a wall is:

the beginning of love.


The mistake in memorizing new things

the strictness in refuge and reverences

to bring up a silver ship from the deep

to forget a kite in the sky that has been blown away

to change nature while kneeling to fresh waters

the illusion in resurrecting a silver ship

to speed the flow of time:

the beginning of love.



All of a sudden remembering the old rains

in the never aging jump of the red squirrels

in the free flow of oceans

to surge on the back of a golden colored fish

in the speed of ancient times that reaches today

patching new pictures on torn albums

tiredness in the defeat of the heart

to open spaciously with a smile

with wrinklings within quivering days:

the beginning of love.


(The Scale of Crooked Memories, Can Yayınları, Istanbul 2001)


* * *


Translated  by  Koray Feyiz










In howling passageways and on pavements:


I walked not to find but to lose

where the day seeks the late hours of the night!


Every crime has an instrument: Mine is tension

while storms brush by the sky with passion

short and irregular life is intertwined there;


born and old, lived and young, when the child dies,

was it from the flowers of a disease whose name is not known? 

And always thinking about shattered sleep

in which I attached to the skin of days of old.


The corners are filled with wounded shadows,

each back of a window is a sparkling treasure isle,

what they said for a city is an undecided lover: I knew!


To the city I left to the humming of many bugs

I floated ships in dark beds,


         with the murmur within meÖ every shop window shattered.


        (Preparing for a Storm, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2006)


* * *



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz









         Mention was made of rivers and waves,


         the first time I saw the depth of sky was in a woman

         it was like a crash testing the day with the past,


         I first saw the skin of loneliness at night

         it was the light that drew the darkness; the dark had made the light

time: the deep absentmindedness that pays not attention to objects.


The corners had stiffened that of the earthís surface and the woman

the future was shattered: my face that went into the water,

in the hidden times of the triangle known as earth

my days and nights were like preparing for a storm.


The secrets kept were never revealed, covered up within itself,

a rose scattered before its time from yesterday to today

unprepared and perplexed in the kiss received with fury.


In time I saw a wiggle for the first time: a woman

perhaps this was the offering made of oneself by the profound sage


I surmounted all the borders from him, like rivers.


(Preparing For a Storm, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2006)


* * *



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz 











At first:

Your walk in the monophonic rain

previously the dark was loud

and now itís quiet.


The walls that you have laid will be demolished

you will lie underneath them

your kitchens, your bedrooms

you will withdraw to the deep

you will withdraw.


You will not reach the ships, the planes

actually itís unimportant

the ships and the planes

because it will not reach very far

everything at the moment, everything happening here,

donít wait for story birds

donít wait for adventure men

take out the swords you have buried in chests,


this assault of the barbarians

will blow away life.


(Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)


* * *


Translated  by  Koray Feyiz










The world is small but the eye is big

foreign women stand like the leaning Tower of Pisa

the storm that throws about everything

holds the ships by its fingers.


These elderly women are curious about the world

Hasnít any man shown?

Havenít they seen it in a man?


The Tower of Babel, the Eiffel Tower, the Maiden Tower?

Havenít they seen it in a child girl?

The charm of the hanging gardens?


This is probably Madonna

the stories have told it for two thousand years

the story of climbing trees naked

the story of wide jawed men being stupid,

the story that children that cry will become happy.


The towers are straight but one is leaning

that is the reason why

this mature woman

the dream she attaches to her skin

with laughter dismissed from men

leaves herself to the world.


The foreign women in our city

on our shores, cisterns

and in our leaning graves

are howling at loneliness.


(Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)


* * *

Translated  by  Koray Feyiz







In the past I had an uncle in Hungary

that grew gardens in the attic

his hands faster than his eyes

all of the places they were born lay distant,

another uncle is in Finland.


The migration maps always at the highest

they placed their dreams even higher

they didnít care whether the oceans

thought nothing of them,

the foreignness of bridges and border guards;


with the same speed they dived into

voices and streets, to songs

bridges and water, to darkness

         with the same zest

         in Hungary and in Finland,

         when they learned I was coming

         they ran to the doors.


Dreams that they have passed through iron mountains

they raise,

their new gardens in the attics;

that two seas donít make an ocean

who know

love the Mediterranean endlessly.


Those who understood their words

would be awash with magnificent wine from bunches

the rest is degenerate rust

that embraces iron with betrayal.


In the past I had an uncle in Hungary

the places they were born were far away

another uncle is in Finland.


(Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)


* * *



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz










Your face had a meaning your skin is lost:

we would pursue you before and after the rains

just as the sinister streets blends with the fog

just as the wild ivy seeks space

such meanings that have passed this craving.


Your face had a meaning from old dreams:

when the barbarians furled their cold breath in our city

we will search with children that your skin is lost

the stars, the sky, the earth surfaceís the same

the narcissus is in a death sleep

and with the map hidden in treasures


your voice would hesitate to abandon your mouth

perhaps we thought as such,

if the sky should crack it would hit our heart and

your face would appear before the rains later

there was a meaning but we cannot find it now

no matter how we search with children thrown from the game

in the dark corridors of our cities

we cannot hear your screams

we cannot hear your screams


the meaning in your face

has lost itself

in the gullibility of the years of the soul stretching ceremony


(Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)


* * *



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz











Whatever my lover touches changes

like the two-sided knife

changes into a one-sided scissor.

The sky abruptly into airplane shadows,

the airplane shadows into wild birds

comes and goes with skyscrapers

the flowers redden and turn pale to foreign seasons,

my lover as well as with other things.


Whatever my lover touches changes

the letters scatter over the pages with a rush

if she touches colored glasses they become colored birds

the merciless cold and snow call to each other

         the doors and the ivy that closes them

         touches the shadows intermittently

         my lover as well as other things.


         Whatever my lover touches changes

         the books seems like noisy conversations

         to look at someone closely to painful nights

         distant seasons turn my brothers and sisters voices

         screams from pipes that stretch the world

         bend the trees that are tired from the storm

         it touches the pain in my soul from the emptiness

         my lover as well as other things.


        Since we listened to this song

        everything that my lover touches dies


       (Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)


* * *


Translated  by  Koray Feyiz











The knife leaving childhood

crossed his heart sadly

in the strangeness of loving a sister

running towards a falling star

where kites that made the knees bleed


of a child in love with desolate rooms

waited for the rain when the evening collided

whenever he forgets to stroke his soul

a distant relative

in a distant and cold


night with anxiety holding the doors

would it bring unforgotten and dangerous

         exile unlike

         flawed writings that looked at itself

would be spoken and loneliness

talking with toys and sad


behind closely dawn curtains

what is the voice of the night?


If you have a pretty sister ill in your heart

with burning delirium as if just entering life

a red headed childís song

in the deep


       (Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)


* * *



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz










Drained the morning song from the bee hive

the narcissus are oozing water from lifeís walls

the day will start any time now


she has left herself downhill

accompanied with drained whispers

a swarm of butterflies over her head.


The birds are heading somewhere

pieces of the sun fall on skirts

the creek divides into two

with love


forgotten the world and time

the bicycle age turns to itself

the whisper of the bees with the cries of the birds

explains her passing


the distant perfect wind


if a young girl is completely nude

there is nothing she can say, said Balzac

if a newly married woman rides a bike

and plows through the fog and the morning

it can only be such


       (Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)


* * *


Translated  by  Koray Feyiz










Since having to sniff ether

when looking at red lines

itís like standing and running

itís not early itís not late

itís definitely not a beating of the heart

something there talking after the ether


a few thousand people after a few thousand points

they walk and run to the same place

they jump from traffic lights

they consider city limits as nothing,

streets that look at a few thousand people

sad and routed and sad

looking for the guilt at someone else,


within this life

within other lives

sad hearts collide at each other.


To cut a tree

to rip a cloud from its place

everything seems as if with ether

the wall that I looked at became a person

the person I looked a wall

suddenly falls and dies

but everything is untimely,

everything gets caught in the cracks of the world

I said it, you should have heard

there is this thing after ether


        (Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)


* * *



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz









There is no virus on this paper

it can be touched with desire

you can read it with trust.

No, but the virus

for shattered dreams, poisonous spiders

for storms that shatter dreams

I canít say anything!


This fiery quicksand

is maybe our future,

these purple hanging gardens as well

is our past,

by lowering your voice completely

says the stranger walking among us,


by assuming that everything is in place

from where to where did we breathe

         that the martens cried like pigeons

we didnít understand

with bonding and crooked cries:

can call out as brotherhood!


From the straggly reeds

from the quite caves

running to steels that pierce the sky

we were humans: we didnít remember

where trees stopped

we didnít know

in the endless dreams



we donít care where is where

due to this:

the world is an old fridge

the spoilt food inside has been forgotten.


        (Torn, Yapı Kredi Yayınları, Istanbul 2011)



Translated  by  Koray Feyiz




 Copyright © 2011  BAKİ AYHAN T. and Koray Feyiz





B‚ki AsiltŁrk was born in Adana in 1969. He uses the pen name of Baki Ayhan T. when he writes poetry.  He graduated from Marmara University, Department of Turkish Language and Literature Teaching. He has a doctorate and is currently a professor at Marmara University Faculty of Arts where he teaches Modern Turkish Literature. His Academic studies have been focused on the field of modern Turkish poetry.  His poetry reading and writing began in Adana, at a very young age. "The Girl is owner of Mandolin" the first poem titled "Milliyet Art Magazine Young Poets Anthology" was published. In the same year the first book of poetry released in Adana. Writings on modern Turkish poetry, and poetry; The show, Book-Ness, Autumn, Ludingirra, Man-Art, Garden, Recently A New Style, The Republican-Book, TŲmer,Literature, Long Live Literature, Entity, String, Akatalpa, Other, Poetry Arrow-u Man-Art, Literature and Criticism, Yasakmeyve, Le Travaille Poet, Kashgar, A Comma, Concept-Confusion, Literary Diary, published in journals such as The Idiot.


"Fraudulent Scale Memories" (2001, Campbell Springs.) "Remote Time Praise" (2003, Campbell Springs.) "Preparation For The Storm" (2006,YKY) Book Review: "Straightforward Scales: Poetry Writings" (YKY, 2006), "1980 Generation of Turkish Poetry Poetics " (Toroslu, 2006),  ďTorn" (YKY, 2011)


Poet and Translator


A Turkish poet, born in Istanbul in 1961, Koray Feyiz studied Geodesy and Photogrammetry Engineering, and Urban Planning, at Karadeniz Technical University, and at  Middle East Technical University. He completed his doctoral dissertation on Urban Psychology. Feyiz is currently engaged in research on Geographic Information Systems and Remote Sensing. His first published poem appeared in one of Turkeyís most prestigous literary magazines, Varlık, in 1987. His poems and prose essays have continued to appear in numerous Turkish literary magazines over the last two decades. He has also published seven collections of his poetry: Mezarlar Eskimedi (The Graveyard is Not Exhausted, İz, 1987), Bir Mektupta İki Yalnızlık (Two Solitudes in One Letter, Engin, 1988), Ben O Issız O Yorgun Şehir (I Am a Desolate, Exhausted City, Prospero, 1995), Uhrevi Zorba (The Metaphysical Autocrat, Urun, 1995), DŁşle Gelen (To You Who Arrived in a Dream, Suteni, 1995), Seni Bağışladım «ŁnkŁ Beni «ok ‹zdŁn (Cause of My Grief, I Forgive You, Hera, 1999) and Su Yarası (Wounded by the Water,  Artshop 2010)