Nihat Ziyalan
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Transcript of Nihat Ziyalan
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8/14/2019 Nihat Ziyalan
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THE ECHO
Nihat Ziyalan
My ears cannot take it anymore;
The voices coming from deep inside me,Without rhyme or reason.
Are they from the timesWhen I was first slapped,
Or I fell down from a horse
and broke my arm?
Is it my scream,
When my toenail hit a rock and broke off?
Are they the wordsOf the girl I took home in a carriage
After a literary event,Who said: “You’re the first one
To kiss me after my mom”?
Or the words I couldn’t utter,“It is the same for me”?
Is that the voiceOf the falling tree
When my father heard the death of my brother?
His coffin was made of the same tree!Alongside my mother’s cloth-wrapped head,
With a pitcher full of tears;
A pine scented voiceAbove the carriage going beyond the Tauruses!
Are these the voices?I wove with the yarn of forbearance,
That kept clashing and turned into echoes,
When I took to the roads to go to faraway places.
I don’t know how
I can stop them
Before they turn into an avalanche.
Translated by Nilűfer Mizano lu Reddyǧ(Original published in Varlık , March 2009, p. 13)