Salty Water In My Canteen Poem by Ishmet Ozel

West Indies, Red Apple, Ithaca, South China!
I am sentenced to take a long journey.
I have no share in the territories of whites.
I've committed a crime against the land of locals.
A mischievous among the despots,
an outsiders among the tribes,
Being a savage
cut me off from the languid fruits
For myself in this world
I chose a bitter taste of a root.
There is no shade nearby to have some rest
I am sentenced to take a long journey.

What is far?
For a man like me who lives far from his own self
How far could the destination point be?
My head is uncovered, my hair
is split into two at the middle.
Whichever country I pass through
the tattoos on my temples will betray me.
They will call me brave and honorable,
in fact I am silent and sad.
The cascading yell I learnt from the pirates
is no more doing any good to me.
I am disgusted by
the confident and settled dialects of the peasants.
On my neck,
the jewelries made of the shames
of those who declared me guilty.
On my back, the deaf scale of the clandestine words.
I added salt into the water in my canteen, I have no food with me.
I am sentenced to take a long journey.

I am leaving a life, a life that has been tailored for me.
Those who saw me used to say "It looks good on you.".
The pocket mirror that I bought while doing my military duty,
some nights that I go out,
the frivolous smile on my face in Muş
will be left behind here.
The order is given by the judges.
I have signed the document that allows me
to carry no smell, no echo, no color with me.
My job has finished here, I no more have a home
I am sentenced to take a long journey.