Birds of Imagination

They strike the windows of my sleep / their reddest and most dreadful
The ends of their fish scaled beaks glitter

Wild and lonely / they have big maharajah eyes
Their magnetic crests, a dash of sparkle

Their bough necks stretch / to feathered reveries
They are like the red velvet tubes of lilac narghiles

Clouds change colour / as soon as they open their wings
On their elaborate feet, forked lightning boots

Dreadful green, they sing / the echo shrinking the horizon
Pierced, screaming, the bloody palms of the tyrant

Birds of imagination can’t be caught, they scatter turning into dust
To exist in freedom / their most unforgivable fault

Atilla İlhan (1925-2005). İmgelem Kuşları. Translated from the Turkish.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s