A soul growing cold
I crossed a great cosmos in his sea
by Bejan Matur
I showed him the soul beginning from a shadow.
What was thought to be blood-filled sea and earth was emptiness.
In emptiness the world stirring.
Now I am wingless.
Waves have sucked up the blood that flowed from a cut.
I will show him a soul growing cold.
And sleep in darkness,
not waiting for a mother
or to become a child.
© translated by Ruth Christie