The Bell at the Gate

One day, before your hand reaches the railings,
The bell clangs, trembles.
As seasons have gone by,
Let me be called by this sound…

Pass quickly under the boughs, along the sandy path,
The steps are opposite,
As you jump from the threshold onto the stone slab,
Let the sounds stay with me…

My door, ajar, push it,
The room is as warm as the day you left.
Murmuring, like the gentle sound of water,
Let regret pour out of your heart…

Ahmet Kutsi Tecer (1901-1967). Çıngırak. Translated from the Turkish.

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