A Bosphorous Prayer
A Bosphorous Prayer
A Bosphorous calm
Never lasts:
It is a prayer
Drifting out to sea,
A fable in the hills,
An empire crashing
Against its banks
-- it angrily and tenderly recedes.
A Bosphorous tide
Should it ever exist,
İs something different,
It rises and falls in me
(and all those who say it always rains in Üsküdar).
Without a fable,
Or empire,
Without a prayer:
Only Pamuk’s hüsün
for company
while it storms outside.
.