1999- 2009 tarihleri arasinda Ingiltere bas sairi olan Ingiliz sair, roman ve biyografi yazari Sir Andrew Motion’in dogum gunu (26 Ekim 1952)
Ne kadar az donersem, o kadar cok
buyudugum evinde hissediyorum
kendimi. Mum aydinligindaki
kestaneler arasindan dosdogru
oraya uzanan yol sapasaglam buluyor evi,
goz kamastirici beyaz badanasiyla
sanki cakan simsegin bana gosterdigi.
Gordugum her zaman o yer,
sen degilsin. Sen disarda bir yerde,
el sallayarak beni ugurluyorsun,
on yil once seni biraktigim yerde. Senin
gozden yittigin yeri de hatirlamiyorum
artik, aklimda kalan o yosunlu basamaklar
uzerinde durdugun – gorunur bir yalnizlik.
Uc ilce otede yasiyorum ve hala
her gece arabanla guneye, karinin kaldigi
kogusa, onu gormeye gidisini dusunuyorum.
Daha ne kadar surecek bu?
Alti yildir yapiyorsun bu yolculugu,
her bolunen gunun ona ayirdigin
bir armagan, onu mutlu etmek icin.
Hatirliyorum yanindan gectigin
cayirlari, parlayan sabahin yaninda duran
atilmis hap kutularini. Hala orada olsaydim,
seyrederken onun umarsiz yuzune dusen
saclarini duzelten elini, sonunda
anlayabilirdim belki sevginin nasil
gorundugunu, onun urpertici acik secikligini.
The less I visit, the more
I think myself back to your house
I grew up in. The lane uncurled
through candle-lit chestnuts
discovers it standing four-square,
whitewashed unnaturally clear,
as if it were shown me by lightning.
It's always the place I see,
not you. You're somewhere outside,
waving goodbye where I left you
a decade ago. I've even lost sight
of losing you now; all I can find
are the mossy steps you stood on
- a visible loneliness.
I'm living four counties away, and still
I think of you driving south each night
to the ward where your wife is living.
How long will it last?
You've made that journey six years
already, taking each broken-off day
as a present, to please her.
I can remember the fields you pass,
the derelict pill-boxes squatting
in shining plough. If I was still there,
watching your hand push back
the hair from her desperate face,
I might have discovered by now
the way love looks, its harrowing clarity.


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