We present this work in honor of the 35th anniversary of the poet’s death.

Oktay Rıfat Horozcu
1914 – 1988


He died –
he doesn’t know he died,
his two hands lie by his side.
They’ll carry him away,
nor can he say,
‘I won’t go!’
He couldn’t even give thanks
to the friends who bore his coffin.

Ah, his death is like no other’s.

Translation by Ruth Christie

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