If from inside of all my poetry
You take out the flower,
From the four seasons
One of my seasons will die.
If you take out my lover,
Two of my seasons will die.
If you take out the bread,
Three of my seasons will die.
If you take out the freedom
My year will die and I will die also.
Autumn
Today autum passed
and left this region.
when I visited
the abandoned place,
I saw
that he had left behind
a sigh.
I took this sigh home.
It appeared custom-tailored
for one of my poems
The Chair
The chair
on which the poet had been killed
was a witness.
It stayed alive
until it saw the death of the executioner
and freedom came upon it.
Love song
It was the first time that a sugar-cane
rebelled against her field.
This slender and pale maiden
had given her heart to the wind.
But the field did not consent to thier
marriage.
consumed with love she said,
"He is to me beyond compare.
This is where my heart lies."
To punish the maiden
whose eyes were already wet with dew,
the indegnant field called the woodpecker
who drilled a few holes
into the heart and the body of the plant.
From this day on
she was a flute,
and the hand of the wind
endowed her wounds with melodies.
She has been singing ever since for the
world.
www.geocities.com/marxist_lb/Sherko_Bekes.htm#eng