I am compelled to you, you cannot know

I keep your name pegged in my mind
your eyes grow and grow
I am compelled to you you cannot know
I'm heating my inside with you

trees are preparing for fall
is this city that old Istanbul
in the dark clouds are falling apart
street lamps light up suddenly
rain smell on the sidewalks

I am compelled to you, you are not here

loving is shamefully frightening at times
one gets tired on an early evening all of a sudden
of living at the edge of a captive blade
his passion breaks his hands at times
a few lives he makes out of his life
whichever door he knocks at times
behind him the wily hum of loneliness

in Fatih a poor grammophone is playing
a Friday from old times is playing
if I listen uninterrupted standing at the corner
if I bring you an unused sky

weeks are crumbling in my hands
whatever I do, whatever I hold, wherever I go
I am compelled to you, you are not here

Perhaps you are a blue dotted child in June
oh nobody knows you nobody
a towboat is leaking from your desolate eyes
perhaps you are getting on a plane in Yesilköy
you're completely wet you're getting goose bumps
perhaps you are ember you're broken you're in a hurry
the nasty wind is taking away your hair

whenever I think of a living
in this table of wolves perhaps it's difficult
without disgrace however without getting our hands dirty
whenever I think of a living
I say "hush" and start with your name
your secret seas are stirring in me
no, it won't be any other way.

ATILLA ILHAN