Thirty-five years old! That's half the road. Like Dante, we're in the middle of our lives. The treasure of youth has passed, Begging and pleading, is futile today, It got away without shedding a tear. Did it snow on my temples? What's the deal? My God, is this lined face mine? Are the dark circles under my eyes, for real? Why do you appear as enemies, You, the mirrors I've known for years? How people change with time. Whichever portrait I look at, it's not mine. Where are those days, the excitement and cheer? This smiling man is not me. It's a lie that I'm carefree, I do fear. Our first love, it's a vague memory now; All these recollections seem foreign to me. We started life together, somehow, But with friends, we drifted separately; Our loneliness grows, we wonder how. The sky has other colors, I've found out! I realized too late the stone's hardness. Water drowns, fire burns, there's no doubt! Every new day brings its own distress, And one understands this at my age. Quince is yellow, pomegranate red, it's fall! Every year, I embrace it a bit more. Why do birds keep circling in the sky, after all? Where did this funeral come from? Who's it for? How many ruined gardens have I seen, I can’t recall. What can one do? Death stands at everyone's gate. You slept and couldn't wake up, that’s all to it. Who knows where, how, at what age? You'll also have a sultanate for but a single prayer Enthroned upon that mortuary slate.
Translated by: Mehmet Barın Erturan
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