Classic · Collection · Colloquialisms · Excerpt · Garip Movement · Passage · Poetry · Turkish Culture · Turkish Literature

Orhan Veli Kanik

I am listening to Istanbul, intent, my eyes closed. A bird flutters round your skirt; On your brow, is there sweet? Or not? I know. Are your lips wet? Or not? I know. A silver moon rises beyond the pine trees: I can sense it all in your heart’s throbbing. I am listening to Istanbul,… Continue reading Orhan Veli Kanik

Advertisement

Rate this: