by Alova, translated from Turkish by BUĞRA GIRITLIOĞLU
Every night the child would seek his stars
And the Moon, which he raised with brand new names:
Cut nail, Luminous Hammock
Growwalker, Bruised Orange
When the wind would start blowing
Undulating the water’s curtain
And a callow frog tire of its own croak
And jump into the moss-scented sky,
He’d lose his stars
The Moon he raised every night
Would shatter
When the wind subsided
So that the stars took their places
And the Full Moon recollected its pieces,
The child whose eyes grew heavy
Rested his head one night
Against his pillow made of the Milky Way
And laid down to
The moss-scented stars’
Eternal sleep