Çiçekçiydi, yaprak bitlerini öldürmeyen.
Fotoğrafçı, savaş yıllarına rötuş yapan.
Meddahtı, her akşam eve gülücükle gelen.
Kumraldı, çocukları hep karısına çeken.
Uzun boylu, kendisine palto diktirmeyen.
Sebzeciydi, domatlarını hiç yemeyen.
İşadamı, hasırdan başka minder bilmeyen.
Dindardı, ezan okunurken rakı içmeyen.
Gözlüklüydü, gözleri daha da büyüyen.
Gezgin, İzmir’in parkelerini denetleyen.
Balıkçıydı, elleri suyla nasır tutan.
Nikotinman, sigarası bağlanarak uzayan.
Diplomattı, kokteyle pantolonla giden.
Yatırımcı, geceleri ailesini besleyen.
Dayım gül takardı gömleğinin yakasına
Seni görse, eminim, mutluluktan ağlardı.
MY UNCLE WORE A ROSE ON HIS LAPEL
And as if it were alive he would water it every day.
To let the water on his dark flesh vaporize
He would button down his shirt with rascally strong words:
A florist he was who would not kill lice oN a leAf.
A photographer who touched up the photographs of war.
A storyteller who came home smiling every night.
Auburn he was- his children resembled his wife.
His tallness protected him from the cold.
A greengrocer who never ate his own tomatoes.
A merchant who new no cushions but matting.
Religious- he would not drink raki* during edhan**.
The glasses he wore made his eyes seem larger.
Wanderer he was who trodED the cobblestones of İzmir.
A fisherman whose hands became calloused by water.
A nicotine addict wHose long cigarette curled.
A diplomat who attended coctail parties with his fancy trousers on.
An investor who worked overnight to feed his family.
My uncle wore a rose on his lapel.
Had he seen you he would have cried with joy.
*raki: Turkish alcoholic drink made from grapes and aromatic anise.
Çiçekçiydi, yaprak bitlerini öldürmeyen.
Fotoğrafçı, savaş yıllarına rötuş yapan.
Meddahtı, her akşam eve gülücükle gelen.
Kumraldı, çocukları hep karısına çeken.
Uzun boylu, kendisine palto diktirmeyen.
Sebzeciydi, domatlarını hiç yemeyen.
İşadamı, hasırdan başka minder bilmeyen.
Dindardı, ezan okunurken rakı içmeyen.
Gözlüklüydü, gözleri daha da büyüyen.
Gezgin, İzmir’in parkelerini denetleyen.
Balıkçıydı, elleri suyla nasır tutan.
Nikotinman, sigarası bağlanarak uzayan.
Diplomattı, kokteyle pantolonla giden.
Yatırımcı, geceleri ailesini besleyen.
Dayım gül takardı gömleğinin yakasına
Seni görse, eminim, mutluluktan ağlardı.
MY UNCLE WORE A ROSE ON HIS LAPEL
And as if it were alive he would water it every day.
To let the water on his dark flesh vaporize
He would button down his shirt with rascally strong words:
A florist he was who would not kill lice oN a leAf.
A photographer who touched up the photographs of war.
A storyteller who came home smiling every night.
Auburn he was- his children resembled his wife.
His tallness protected him from the cold.
A greengrocer who never ate his own tomatoes.
A merchant who new no cushions but matting.
Religious- he would not drink raki* during edhan**.
The glasses he wore made his eyes seem larger.
Wanderer he was who trodED the cobblestones of İzmir.
A fisherman whose hands became calloused by water.
A nicotine addict wHose long cigarette curled.
A diplomat who attended coctail parties with his fancy trousers on.
An investor who worked overnight to feed his family.
My uncle wore a rose on his lapel.
Had he seen you he would have cried with joy.
*raki: Turkish alcoholic drink made from grapes and aromatic anise.
