Every Morning When I Look Poem by Mehmet Cinarli

Every morning when I look in the mirror
My father's face stands before me:
Tired, weary, run-down, pale.
His hair is white, and he, slightly hunched.
I ask the wind, and the rain, and the snow,
Where would be the young man and the happy child?

Falling in love again, madly,
Now seems as far as the mountains.
The moment when the roads are completely obscured
By the blackened horizons
If no friend reaches out,
How would one walk, but not fall?

II
Wish those old trains were once again here
And the airplanes that bring the sweetheart.
Wish we could escape, our tracks disappear,
We could forget together again, how wonderful.

Wish I could give that old happiness
Touching with passion.
We would not feel the cold in midst of winter,
Lying in the golden vessel of heaven.

III
Is that you, even if I can find you?
Harsh climates, I know what they do.
If you come to me, I am not the old me:
A sea of water under the bridges.

Every morning when I look in the mirror
My father's face stands before me:
Tired, weary, run-down, pale.
I ask the wind, and the rain, and the snow,
Where would be the young man and the happy child?