Cenk Gündoğdu








his dream’s serdar


serdar passed himself

through the train coming from the Hijaz

his lights were on, a green colt

he said – it is my house

with the villages passing within us

we could know him from afar,

we had read from the leaves

of newspapers and calendars

the pain that inhabits the Orient

the green mountains of the country

do not die where

the enchanting blue begins


he took a time from the hands of the world

we heard this long ago… but now it is

something else, with a heart oblivious of everything

he kept a South in his mind where to end again

then he went up on the joyful plateaus he remembered of

on his neck a red radio

in his jacket the urgency to get married

songs are necessary for the revolution

freedom from the horses’ wind

hardtack, bread and words

I am taking a note of you, the snow has stopped in Nusaybin

the street has shot three guards, tobacco

made us see, there in the Orient,

girls are an ever-bleeding sky

we forgot to say this as well


Indian style shals

before the telegraph that comes at night was transmitted

the summer came with the curiosity of the kids


our preparation to come to the world

the geometry that is not in the account

and we have a dream of deep passion

we know this, we are looking for an evening without sleep

the orange boxes and light wines in the rain with serdar




translater: nicola verdarame




the night of mari


mari’s fate is dark

that’s why she loves cats

at night she tries out insomnias

before the sailors collect their sea

she has flown alongside mirrors

erring with the wind that praises her youth

every travel always stops somewhere hidden in her


who does this white, made of oscurity, resemble?

mari in an obscure time,

the bells of foggy northern islands

subtly descending into nothing

everything is set with something arcane

as if everything made one by desire

was to be smashed into pieces


mari, this swarthiness is so elegant

this solitude is so dark blue

my dear dread, I came to you from a pain
talk to me, twist

drive me to the mountains in your mind

until the sleep’s morning

there’s a life from us towards the city

let’s forget the cats that didn’t see the night

the horizon of the weary workers

and with these voices that from me pass to you

let us denude this noble darkness





translater: nicola verdarame










He was born in 1976 in Ankara. He studied on Faculty of Business Administration and Fine Arts. He graduated from Kocaeli University Faculty of Fine Arts Branch of Performing Arts Department of Dramatic Authoring. He has been editor of both “Üç Nokta” literary journal which he issued since 2001 and “Şiir Defteri” since 2005. The play, belonged to Aleksandr Sergeyeviç Griboyedov, named Akıldan Bela(İkaros Yayınları, 2011) translated by him(supported by Engin Toprak) and his own play Radyonun İçindekiler(İkaros Yayınları, 2011) were published. Gundogdu’s first poetry book “Issız” (Kırmızı Kedi Yayınları) awarded Arkadaş Zekai Özger Şiir Ödülü and Metin Altıok Şiir Ödülü has been published to meet with the artlovers.

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