Pointed are his feet as he steps on hard stones
The women have breasts-Let's drink either whiskey or beer
And there are tables, you know, that are not living
Just like that, a table in them
Tell Mike and Jim-tonight to the women.
Mike does not like women, so we'll drop him at the coffeehouse
He will play cards a while, then sail to the oceans
And there are islands, you know, that are not living
Just like that, an island in them
You know us-he winks-to the women.
Pointed are his feet as the sky reflects on the roofs
This quarrel, a quarrel from its hundredth exponent
And there are people, you know, that are not living
Is it you Mike, or is it you Jim
Let's not care about it-he sighs-tonight to the women.
Translated by Dogan Turker
Turkish Poetry in Translation