Aséna by Tahir Hamut Izgil

A piece of my flesh

torn away.

A piece of my bone

broken off.

A piece of my soul


A piece of my thought

set free


In her thin hands

the lines of time grow long.

In her black eyes

float the truths of stone tablets.

Round her slender neck

a dusky hair lies knotted.

On her dark skin

the map of fruit is drawn.


is a raindrop on my cheek, translucent

as the future I can’t see.


is a knot that need not to be untied

like the formula my blood traced from the sky,

an omen trickling from history.


kisses the stone on my grave

that holds down my corpse

and entrusts me to it.


is a luckless spell

who made me a creator

and carried on my creation.

She is my daughter.

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