I was down with fatigue on a chair my foot broken, tossed onto a chair - tossed and thrown into the depths. Rain fell outside. My hopes were surrounded by a rainbow as though a mommy were crying before a window, murmuring "my little one...my little one..." The hours advanced, non-stop towards the setting of the sun. A cold wind rose after the rain... a naked foot I opened the door to hold the hands outstreched to me. Our arms join after eight nostalgic years, one, two, three, four people are suddenly crying, and me, I laugh with joy.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick – 2004
Notes From The Author: You may e-mail me with any comments about my poetry.
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