Your lips are red
Your hands are white
Take my hands, child,
Hold them a while.
In the village where I was born
There were no walnut trees
That's why I yearn for coolness
Fondle me a while.
In the village where I was born
There were no cornfields
So scatter your hair child
Flaunt it a while.
In the village where I was born
The north winds blew
That's why my lips are cracked
Kiss them a while
In the village where I was born
Bandits struck by night
That's why I hate to be alone
Speak with me a while
In the village where I was born
Men did not know how to laugh
That's why I'm still so unhappy
Make me laugh a while
You are light and beauty, like my country
The village where I was born was beautiful too
Now tell me of the place where you were born
Tell me a while.
Cahit Külebi (1917 – 1997) Turkey
Translated by Bernard Lewis
Source: All Poetry
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