I cannot suit you, neither can with myself

I am offended by the mirrors, by Amed and by you 

The grass of the garden is not sour anymore and neither grows.

I am a six years old child under the sand of March 

A bullet moving under my rib

Does not leave whatever I do

I am offended, mocking myself with a cold laughter

Come at once to Bebavsuburb

Come and see how my heart is.

Neither my mother nor you, I cannot reach the skies

Anytime I lay hand on a star, 

A bullet falls under the roof of your eyes

Right here, beside you in the lake of blood

A clown gets jealous and chants “Dido”

How much death suits you!

I neither suit you, nor your houses 

I am mad at your trees, 

At your fruits and at your roots which hanged the pieces of my body 

Neither the body suits me nor does my mother’s heart in the sky. 

I am a six years old child under a dirty shoe 

Fearful glances are moving over me

Bullet is jumping in my body 

Tell me, who is my murderer? 

A poet was talking about you and chanting “Dido”

-both your eyes were full shells.

One hit the dove’s heart and the other…

my right eye.

Tell me, which one am I? 

You were a burned village, 

And I am the servant of mother and father. 

I was a bad sister on the ground and the sky of your life

I could not reach the stipes of your mountains, 

Tell me, what was my crime? 

You were saying don’t come. I was saying I will. 

How interesting it was, our names were diagonal.

Neither you were saying come, nor I…

I came. I came. And going without saying good-bye.

Don’t say anything. It wasn’t me. 

The one who was playing at your father’s garden, it wasn’t me. 

The red ball was not mine, and that groan…

I cannot suit you, neither can with timeless cemeteries. 

I am offended, mocking your children. 

Enough! 

Don’t scream anymore. 

I cannot suit you, neither can my cradle. 

My mother, in this cradle, 

Three years five months and seven days 

made me sleep with heart breaking songs. 

Hanged seven blue beads over my head, for evil eyes.

Each word and each laughter

was becoming a yellow bubble 

 on my mother’s lap.

Now! 

Say it.

I cannot suit you neither can

the cries that line on my mother’s cheeks. 

I am offended, mocking the yellow bubble 

which now rusted on my mother’s lap.

Now seven blue beads

become seven evil eyes and shooting at me. 

How warm were my mother’s hands, 

Why are yours cold?

It wasn’t me

Who was crying and laughing 

in my mother’s womb. 

I am mad at the sand of my mother’s nails

whenshe bore me.

I am mocking the arrant milk in her breasts.

Who will carry my crimes.

Who will be prosecuted in the hell? 

Tell me. 

Who will douse the fire that grows in my mother’s heart.

I am offended,

by your eyes and the death.

I am six years old now, and in hands of a stranger 

moving from one side to another side.

Why all the roads of BircaBelek are closing at me.

Tell me, do I deserve it?

Okay! 

I will not mock anymore 

And will not stand for my dreams either. 

Like six years before

Bring a bunch of sand and hit to my mother’s chest. 

Okay, 

Fireflies and corals of love are moving from here.

And my childhood is growing like a moor. 

Okay!

Now it is to me to say good-bye. 

I am riding a wooden carousel. 

My mother’s scream

is hitting the wind of my halter and the road in front of me.

Not a worry, now a bloody spring

And manfulness is wounded at the suburb of Bebav. 

until a star awakes from asleep…