I love my country:
I have swung from its sycamores, slept in its prisons.
Nothing can take away my anguish as the
Songs and tobacco of my country.
My country:
Bedreddin, Sinan, Yunus Emre, Sakarya,
lead domes and factory chimneys
It’s the work of my people, who hide their smiles under droopy moustaches
Even from themselves
My country.
How vast my country is;
Endless, inexhaustible
Edirne, Izmir, Ulukisla, Maras, Trabzon, Erzurum.
I know the plains of Erzurum only by their songs
And I am ashamed to say I have never visited
The cotton pickers
in the south
Or the Taurus mountains
My country
Camels, trains, ford automobiles and sick donkeys
Poplar
Willow
Red earth
My country
It’s pine forests, it’s sweet mountain water
The trout
And his half kilo
Spotted red, smooth, silver skin
Swimming in Bolu’s Abant lake.
My country
The goats of the Ankara plains
Their fur, brown haired, like silk, fluttering
Rich oily hazelnuts from Giresun
Rosy cheeked fragrant apples from Amasya
Olive
Fig
Melon
And all the colours
And bunches of grapes
And then the plough
And then the black ox
And then: onwards, beautiful, good
Ready to accept everything with the joy of an innocent, admiring child
My people, hardworking, honest, brave
Half hungry, half full, half slave…

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