Prowling the bookstores on Iskitlal Street, Istanbul’s famous pedestrian walk-way, I came on a volume of poems in English Translation by Cahit Kulebi (1917-1997). This one is
Your fate, my boy
Is the fate of all children.
What harm did the twentieth century not do?
It didn’t even spare the very young.
A child resembles
A delicate bird,
He needs a home, bread
And to be kissed and comforted.
In this world, my boy,
There are many cities where
Children roam around warily
Like frightened birds.
Translated by VickieTuncer and Baran Tuncer