The Marketplace Still Attaches Your Ass To Money by Üzeyir Lokman CAYCI
One does not sell broken pottery. Look for profitable business. Your wife Zâra, a hump on her back, beats the wool Let your hungry children and your animals that wait for fodder not cause you to brood; the marketplace is always there attaching your ass to money. You sell your merchandise, you make money, you won't go to Niğde... You remain without hope in the marketplace. Your customers, hearing your voice, say "Halil is still here..." Sell your apples snatched from their branches and hope they are all eaten; the marketplace is still there attaching your ass to money. You sell your merchandise, you make money, you won't go to Niğde... Let indifference not change you, the shenanigans and acrobatics of all sorts - let all of it coming from one direction not tire your mind. The marketplace is always there attaching your ass to money. You sell your merchandise, you make money, you won't go to Niğde...
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI Traduit par Yakup YURT en français French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick - 2002
NDTR: Niğde is a prefecture of Turkey and Bor is a sub-prefecture of Niğde.
Notes From The Author: You may e-mail me with any comments about my poetry.
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