MY MOTHER SMELLS LİKE EARTH

If you ask me about yesterday and today,
They stole my yesterday, I don’t know today.
I was a child, made my tears a toy,
Did you cry quietly in dark corners?

Did you hold the earth as if a mother’s embrace?
Did you cry out in longing when the rain fell?
Did you get wet, half-naked, in the rain?
After the rain, to the smell of the earth?

Did you hold on as if it were your mother’s scent?
Did your tears mix with thin bread?
Did you hug the grave as if a mother’s lap?
When your stomach hurt, did you seek refuge in the grave as if it were your mother’s home?

Without knowing yesterday, I am homeless today.
At twelve, I suffered exile,
How many lands I was exiled to, yet I never settled.
I became a wingless migratory bird,

To whom should I tell about the woman I loved?
Mother, I couldn’t lay my head upon your chest.
I couldn’t make your scent a cure for my pain.
If you’re not here, mother, who will kiss my sorrows?

The longing in my heart burns my soul, mother,
If you’re not here, who will soothe the pains in my body?
You didn’t kiss my forehead, you didn’t stroke my hair,
You didn’t wipe my tears, didn’t kiss or smell me, mother.