I Look at Istanbul with Drunken Ears
This road has been intentionally brought here with the blue bus with the strange crowd of
pigeons
And the impatience of the shirt and the skirt and the boots
Something has happened in the mirror what is the matter with you Istanbul?
You have put on somebody and this is the scent of the beloved from your shoulders the scent of
earth and geraniums
The evaporating colorful scent.
O, City with the eyes of the sea and colorful waves
Beyond the vapor in your back, walls of swear words and love letters
What is the matter with you Istanbul?
Where are we going with my feet of bronze in the middle of the night?
With these sweet smelling dead offering tea and cigarettes why are we sitting here?
I want to make love to this stone man under the rain, o city
To sing barefoot to Bokhara, to listen to the body of the poplars
The air is an orchard of mint tonight
Do you hear?
- Your health your health!
How sweet is being in love
These extravagant hands these shops
The whirling snow pomegranate blossoms
Storks in water
And in shirts shadow of a dark dance.
How did you find this room?
I turned into music with the scent of this bed and this quilt, did you know?
With the noise of these windows we laughed deeply … With you
O, city, I know the scratching of this line.
These singing umbrellas
Something has happened to me with these clouds!
My eyes cannot say Istanbul
My hands cannot . . . .
translated by Dr. Farideh Pourgiv
This road has been intentionally brought here with the blue bus with the strange crowd of
pigeons
And the impatience of the shirt and the skirt and the boots
Something has happened in the mirror what is the matter with you Istanbul?
You have put on somebody and this is the scent of the beloved from your shoulders the scent of
earth and geraniums
The evaporating colorful scent.
O, City with the eyes of the sea and colorful waves
Beyond the vapor in your back, walls of swear words and love letters
What is the matter with you Istanbul?
Where are we going with my feet of bronze in the middle of the night?
With these sweet smelling dead offering tea and cigarettes why are we sitting here?
I want to make love to this stone man under the rain, o city
To sing barefoot to Bokhara, to listen to the body of the poplars
The air is an orchard of mint tonight
Do you hear?
- Your health your health!
How sweet is being in love
These extravagant hands these shops
The whirling snow pomegranate blossoms
Storks in water
And in shirts shadow of a dark dance.
How did you find this room?
I turned into music with the scent of this bed and this quilt, did you know?
With the noise of these windows we laughed deeply … With you
O, city, I know the scratching of this line.
These singing umbrellas
Something has happened to me with these clouds!
My eyes cannot say Istanbul
My hands cannot . . . .
translated by Dr. Farideh Pourgiv
Sheida Mohamadi, poet, fiction writer and journalist, was born in Tehran, Iran, and is the first Poet in Residence at the Jordan Center for Persian Studies at the University of California, Irvine for the 2015-2016 academic year. Her books include, Mahtab Delash ra Goshud, Banu! (The Moonlight Opened its Heart, Lady!), Afsaneh-ye Baba Leila (The Legend of Baba Leila), Aks-e Fowri-ye Eshqbazi (The Snapshot of Lovemaking) and Yavashhaye Ghermez (Crimson whispers).