Maybe I'll come back again. (Belki yine gelirim)

перевод на Английский

Maybe I'll come back again.

I've been biting my lips to bleed for days.
Because every sentence turns into a curse at the tip of my tongue.
I'm wishing for a thunder, for a rainstorm blowing
To end this silence, to put an end to this dirty stickiness.
But even a flood suffice would suffice.
There must be something getting broken and ripped apart.
Something shattering non-stop.
 
Whereas how calm these streets and this city are,
How quiet the sky seems to me now.
 
Where are those that left? I've missed their smiles.
It felt like they were the only ones who made a city beautiful.
They were the ones that got deadly attached to children and to love,
They were the ones that made women beautiful.
One of them was saying "If I spit, it'd be considered to be a murder."
Now, when we spit, it is considered to be a murder.
But where are they? I've missed the smiles of theirs.
 
I'm looking deeply at the twisty streets.
I don't know why but there's not one sole leaf moving.
And one by one, suburbs are turning off their lights.
I'm leaning my head onto a piece of broken glass, it bleeds.
On the clot of my blood, the freshness of the roses.
But yet, the one lurking reaches out like an executioner.
Every word turns into a curse at the tip of my tongue.
 
What living teaches, I'm thinking.
All the books I've read are in shatters.
I go out and wander towards evening, all alone.
From one edge to the other, the city becomes loneliness.
I'm passing by the avenues in front of the cafes.
Creeping highbrows, arabesque sorrows,
A coquette spreading out on a newspaper page.
 
The number of voices are decreasing, the number of birds.
And whenever I happen to pass by the place where you got shot,
That street becomes an angry ring on my neck.
Only our horses hear the sorrow now.
We've already forgotten this kind of things.
But inside me, the thoughtful attitude of a hyena.
And every word turns into a curse at the tip of my tongue.
 
Inside me, an uncontrollable desire of breaking things.
It's like a horse that has broken its bridles.
Every Autumn, I'm gasping for breath.
And whenever my lover is merciful,
A journey occurs my mind, I go.
All of my youth has passed like this.
But there are still things that I can't give up.
 
Which wall doesn't break down if the questions are right?
If we come one day, which city doesn't flourish?
My poems were burnt where a friend got shot.
I'm not taking the ashes back, just to let fires outbreak.
Send out patrols now, turn all your lights off.
I'm not taking back any question that I've asked, oh Street!
And every word turns into a curse at the tip of my tongue.
 
I've been biting my lips to bleed for days.
I'm wishing for a thunder, for a rainstorm blowing,
For an end to this dirty and sticky silence, for not leaving.
Whereas how calm these streets are, this city and this sky.
I'm leaking out to the lonely sky of the night like a thin string of water.
I'm now going away silently, without a sound and without an identity.
Maybe I'll come back again if one day, there would be someone who gives out sound to my voice.
 
Добавлено baron34 в вт, 01/01/2013 - 21:07
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Турецкий

Belki yine gelirim

Belki Yine Gelirim - Ahmet TELLİ
 
Dudaklarımı kanatırcasına ısırıyorum günlerdir
Her sözcük dilimin ucunda küfre dönüyor çünkü
 

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