A soul growing cold Poem by Bejan Matur
A soul growing cold
I crossed a great cosmos in his sea
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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2026 11:17:30 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
