Who knows in forty six years?
How many forty six
My eyes touched lightly to your shores Istanbul.

How many fort six steaming
Welcomed Bostanci station
With the rails symphony
Until Haydarpasa station

How many times do the people
Had to repeat the same journey
Rushing.

When there is a time for departure
What was the hurry?
Steep tea; buying the morning cracknel
And to enjoying a cigarette.

Instead of travelling
On the deck of Baris Mancho’s
Steam ships how many forty six…
Without breathing bolted down
The morsel greedy sea-gullsevery time

When journeying into grey blue
The quayside hand of the gunnels
Greeted the Kiz Kulesi
Fishing children at Sarayburnu
How many forty six in forty six years
Had to postpone my longing for
Arrack and fish at Galata Bridge.

Where I can set a self indulgent
Small table with arrack at Karakoy wharf
Without waiting to doc throwing
People jumping to the shore
Pell-mell scattering to the right and left
Out of breathe on the high pavement
To Beyoglu
Where is this hurry
Instead of taking a break
Appetizer at the Cicek Pasaj
Furthermore if you had met a friend
Why not let the memories
To accompany music
What is this hurry…?

Poem by: Atilla Elustun Bostanci 17/2/2009
Translation by: Gunsel Djemal