The Trio Poem by Metin Sahin

we were the three...Bedirhan..Nazlican and me
three mouthes, three hearts, three sworn bullets
our names were written on the mountains
and on the rocks as trouble
a hard duty hanging from our necks
crossed guns on our bosoms
hands on trigger, ear on the bow string,
backs summitted to the soil
we embraced each other under the stars as blankets
the sea was far, far away
and loneliness made us sick
all nights, the jackal howlings along the cliffs
struck our faces, our breads and our songs and wavered away
nazlican rubbed our chests with thyme
the air smelled heavily with rhyme
we gazed at her secretly
in case our hearts would be broken easily
mAy be we have lost her in the sound of a pipe of a shepard
she joined to the fire flies
glittering and exhausting with them
she was left as a delicate dead butterfly among us
and went in blazes like a bullet, like a mine
OH..nazlican..the wild she deer of the wild slopes
oh..nazlican..hair combed with the winds
how could you go like that
to the land of the stars
oh nazlican..wounded from her bosom
nazlican..you serene plain flower
nazlican..you crazy emotion
a love butterfly on my bosom on earth
nazlican..the soul I have offered to death,
and now..we were in distress like a beaten army
with worn out parkas and hearts
the remainig was the sensing of death
the rest was deaf silence
we went..with the absence of nazlican in us
then they had shot bedirhan in a little valley
but he had broken the fierce besieges
and gone out
then like a gun gliding from the shoulder silently
he shivered, his arms fell to his sides helplessly
death, surrounded him from everywhere like a nettle thorn
his body..like a big tree..tumbled down in the moonlight
I streched my arms and touched his eyes with a dropp of tear in my eyes
the silenced pulse of his wrist still on my chest
it was like a joke
it looked he would wake a little later
as if he will revive the fire mixing and wrapping a cigarette
but death..was faithful to his date as always
like nazlican he would never be among us
Oh bedirhan...the phantom of the pitch nights
oh bedirhan..trouble of the treachery traps
were you a man exhausting like this
stand up speak to me..speak even a little bit
oh bedirhan..his grave..the nest of the eagle
bedirhan..the fugitive of the purple mountains,
bedirhan..his blue eyes falcon
Istabbed a silent dagger in my secret place
bedirhan..i have your blood still on my white shirt
we were the three..we were the suicide flowers three
bedirhan..nazlican and me
and I was left alone with a weeping dagger in me

Yusuf HAYALOGLU..Translation metin sahin