Snow Sweet Poem by Metin Sahin

the woman was walking
perhaps she was a grand mother
very old and old old old and ancient
like a walking monument
there left a bit of her femininity
her breasts
like long flat oven loaves of bread
towards the gravity
she tries to be ottoman
as she could be
and the years
nestled in her whitening hair
very difficult to weave or plait
a rough walking stick in her hand
hatred tapping on the ground
was shr walking
or the walking stick
one of her eyes
covered with a white stain
seeing clearly is in vain
a present from her mother in law
jealous of her son
when weaving a carpet
she was remembering her days
on horse ride
told a love story
her grand daughters gigled and laughed
never understood
sometimes she us of the
hard and harsh days
during the liberation battle against the greeks
invading our country
and of my father asa a veteran officer
returning from a long war
arabs killing turks
evoked by lawrence of arabia
who reached every area
she said
the trains whistled strangely and prosperously
when greeks retreated and defeated in our country
who were swept to the mediterranean sea
ytes those were the harsh and hard days
she had ever seen
she was very old
was it a garment
or an old and torn cloth she wore
nobody could guess any more
eas she walking
or the walking stick nobody understood
years on her piled
she was at the edge of death
her only last wish
toı taste the snow sweet
she loved the best
but nobody bothered to mix the snow
and the teacle for her
she had also small jack knife
just to peel the apples
she liked the apples too
but her teeth cannot bite
one evening
on a cold very cold winter day
she left this world
in a cold and desolate room
swearing everthing to all
shivering and alone
with white snow in her hands
and mouth
near the window pane
and in vain
they told me that
what a pity she was my auntie
I could notf appreciate and knew value
unless she died
she used to call my mother
our bride
honest to say
our bride looked after her very well
sometimes jealousy covered my soul
what a pity
one day
our bride too fled to infinity
like a bridal falling on trees on a cold winter day
both of them are I think now in heaven really
our bride mother and my old auntie
where who knows
looking well after each other
I wish I were there
who will look after me when I die
I wonder
If there were snow sweet there
If there is
I tooo wonder
who will
mix the snow and the treacle
to make snow sweet there