Bejan Matur

1968 / Kahramanmaraş

The glacier

For thousands of years I lay dead, turned to ice in that lake.

You woke me.

I woke and found my sleep in the mist of a forest blighted with fire.

My body clung to night.

Whiteness flowed into my skin from a glacier's deep light

and reminded me

You walked in that lake

leaving tracks and skin.

© translated by Ruth Christie
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