Everything is in its place; by the pool, a cypress tree, A distant cupboard creaks incessantly, As if emerging from a bewitched slumber, objects flow, The house enveloped by vines and insect hums. Everything is in its place; the table, jug, glass, Through the filtered light, time gazes like an enchanted deer, Silence touches the leaves, one by one... I know you're sleeping in the shade, As secluded and cool as a sea cave, Your lashes nestling in the realm of pleasures, A smile upon your face in this heavy afternoon's end. Perhaps these freshly bloomed roses are in your dreams, At the top of these soft, illuminated branches, The eternal love song we hear in the cooing of doves, For our dreams intertwine with reality. Everything is in its place; a cupboard in the distance, Creaking incessantly like a tortured soul, Perhaps reminiscing about our adventures, Dry autumn leaves flutter in the wind.
Translated by: Mehmet Barın Erturan
Click for the original text