Barışmaz
Oh! you residents of the White House,
If your planes loaded with death were mine
I would not cut off the tongues;
If I owned the bulldozers you have,
I never would have
God knows
In another poem, entitled "Gözältçim" (My jailer), the
poet criticizes the inequalities and their roots in philosophical and satirical
manner:
Your prison is inside you.
Who have begrudged people the joy of life,
Should I possess your weaponry,
Do you ever know m-hat I would do?
I would never fill their stomachs with dynamite,
Least death should flash in their eyes,
Upon the touch of the trigger.
To feed the hungry people of the world,
I would fill their stomachs with bread,
So that it would scatter bread instead of fire.
I would never carry around the forebodings.
On them I would bring meat to the children
Who hardly ever taste it once a year.
Rather I would become the tongue.
I would have those silenced out of fear speak
out;
I would plant smiles on the lips.
I would climb over stone - hearted, cold, bloody walls.
Henceforth they would never separate two brothers.
I would never take pacifiers from the mouths of babies
with fiery lead,
I would load my gun with pacifiers
Tasting the milk, smelling of the mother's fragrance.
The fireplace of understanding cool off.
I would be a sawyer
Rooting out ignorance in the world.
What I would do
Should I ever possess
The power you have.
My prison is outside me.
It is the cage
That bars my way out.
The breath that you cut short
Strangles you.
I drag around the chain on my feet;
You drag around your chain-reduced life. You drag
it out.
I will drag it out,
You, my jailer!
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