Poems by Attila Elüstün

Attila Elüstün


Poems by Attila Elüstün



Hit the roads (180°) 


don’t go wait
we’ve got unfinished business
fragile days
at the courtesan nights
with my naked dreams
I must come to you
don’t go wait
we’ve got lots of unfinished business
we will gather dreams
mute darling
hit the roads (180°)
if lived without questioning
without comments/borderless
the past is beautiful and 
morrow as well...


Poem by: Attila Elüstün 18.11.2009
Translation by: Günsel  Djemal
 


 
US 

when mystery descended 
to the shores of Erenkoy
our dreams are hazy
saddened and guiltless
the foxes' don't throw
satanist javelins
into our brains
without underestimating
we keep alive our
moments/memories
the rest of our days
will be lived preciously
we don't intend to walk
double-faced on the streets
and not to delineate the
sadness in our green eyes
we beat it in our hearts
even if it would hurt
every single bit of us
we don't repeat words
we don't get offended
we have no intention of offending the night
will pierce the horizon
once again.
with a warm smile
.../our place
we know our limit.

Poem by: Atilla Elüstün- İstanbul
Translation by: Günsel Djemal -London
 






There isn't a centre of love 


There isn’t a centre of love

“fear and be wrathful of the wine
because it is badly red”
Attila Ilhan

tonight the wine is badly red
i have wrapped the stars into my tobacco
rainbow in its smoke
i am aged she is fresh
is it because of that?

i don’t understand anything from what I am drinking

there are droppings of a thousand fragments of steam, on my table
one of which is…my love
the moss tastes like fish green like Bogaz
i am questioning my past, in the pages of dream
is it because of that?

i don’t understand anything from what I am drinking
my heart is rear, one dark horse
wired phosphorescence in his mane
stars, sea and the moon
on her lips, sorrowful one rosebud

can not keep-up
is it because of that?

tonight the wine is badly red
i don’t understand anything from what I am drinking.


Poem by: Atilla Elüstün 30.12.2002/2004 - İstanbul
Translation by: Günsel Djemal - 2004-19/2/2009 - London





 
Fall/not 


its sword in hand
the night 
is approaching me
on my mind...
the grey hair of my battle
and my loneliness
it’s the lovesick season
the pen fell in love with the paper
the agony on my guitar
autumn
on my tongue
your favourite/that
melancholy tune
my dream a pensive duck

as the hours struggle
i freeze...you



Poem by: Atilla Elüstün - İstanbul
Translation by: Günsel Djemal-London
19/11/2004