POEM Mrs. Hülya's poem which led me to writing the sonnets

 

Poem (Untitled)

The child knew the blue of the sea.

The salty redness

Of the sky's screams upon the sea,

His heart scorching by the sweet heat of boats and

Freshest boat names, he knew them.

He,

With oars, knew his hands

Would laugh on the lap of the sea.

That they on the scales of the fish would hush,

The presence of sea smell to sink to his hair,

The pulses of sand particles in the deep sea,

He knew them.

He knew that pulses would bring pulses too.

Days were turning pale, nights fading away, while waiting.

But now,

Next day he would meet with his blinding desire.

Now he had to sleep,

Time would pass faster when asleep

He had to run for the sleep

As with many laps all ready to send him to sleep.

In the morning, the clock did not ring,

Twitters of birds and the sun were there

And he,

Straight woke up knowing the time would not ever wait.

The water he slapped upon his face and his borrowed clothes

Standing unaware of his excitedness

Just had happened to be in his life;

But who would care

He would run in the foams of the waves

Soon the old red boat, the bushily-mustached fisher

Would give (him) what belonged to none

He would attain being the beloved of boundlessness

Now, he would lace the lace

Wherein glistening stars swam and

Unsilenced quarrels melted into silence.

He, for the first time, would put to sea...

For the first time, would put to sea...

Would put to sea...

Put to sea.

For the first time, put to sea.

He, for the first time, put to sea.

Silence of the splash,

Questioning of the silence,

Confidence of the questioning,

Scorchingness of the confidence,

Pain of the scorchingness

Pain, that pain, pain...

Vomiting...

The child was vomiting...

The child, in the arms of the sea,

Was vomiting all upon the sea.

 

Hülya. Tosun (translated by Çetin Sert)