THE BEDOUIN

Through the deserted dim brown city of my eyes
The white-necked camels pass, their tired drivers,
Day after day, as though to renew their grasp
Ceaselessly look at something very far.
Ask, do they see what they look at, even as a fairy tale,
In the deserted dim brown city of my eyes

Toward the unknown, not day, not death,
They merely look.
A Bedouin stands among the white thorns
The gods the suns the mirages
Not even a fire, not even a seedling, a prayer
In the deserted dim brown city of my eyes

Looking, perhaps, for water to slake a thirst.
No halting place fo rhim, no rest
He will not hear the white-necked camels
Though their tired drivers should sink in front of him
Like the coldest desert bird dying once more
Into the world's monotonous color

Edip Cansever
Translated by Nermin Menemencioglu