{"id":16518,"date":"2026-09-14T18:50:32","date_gmt":"2026-09-14T16:50:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=16518"},"modified":"2026-09-20T18:51:31","modified_gmt":"2026-09-20T16:51:31","slug":"poems-by-ugur-olgar","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=16518","title":{"rendered":"poems by U\u011fur Olgar"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>With the hands of the virgin wind<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The wave that kept asking<br \/>\nafter the shore for forty years<br \/>\nwould turn into coffee for the foam.<!--more--><\/p>\n<p>That summer when the mountain<br \/>\ndipped its feet into the sea,<br \/>\nso many words slipped through clenched teeth,<br \/>\nso many Julys lingered into evening on the Mediterranean,<br \/>\nthe poet sang while gazing into the mirror of his guitar&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>then the rain would suddenly fall,<br \/>\nall the wounds in your soul<br \/>\nleft by untimely loves would be erased.<br \/>\nI would wait for the buds to burst into roses.<\/p>\n<p>The crimson hues of parting upon the skin<br \/>\nwould scatter pomegranates;<br \/>\nI would go and gather them<br \/>\nwith the hands of the virgin wind.<\/p>\n<p>At last, the streets would begin to flow,<br \/>\nyearning to become a river.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Chaotic orbit<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Summer had arrived.<\/p>\n<p>When the guitars fell silent,<br \/>\nthey had already tagged autumn.<br \/>\nThe storks, it seemed,<br \/>\nhad long since departed in resentment.<br \/>\nDays of liberation and nights of coups<br \/>\nwere seeping together<br \/>\nthrough the hollow of the years.<br \/>\nMother Nature had named her daughter<br \/>\nSeptember.<\/p>\n<p>Too soon it came<\/p>\n<p>days hunting wrinkles in mirrors.<br \/>\nPomegranates burst open with a crack,<br \/>\neager for life.<br \/>\nTrees skipped rope<br \/>\nwith the scattered fruit.<br \/>\nSeeds of separation<br \/>\nwere sown into the <em>terra rossa<\/em>,<br \/>\nand every river, regretting its own birth,<br \/>\nbegan to run red.<\/p>\n<p>The ox had died.<\/p>\n<p>The covenant between death and life<br \/>\nhad fallen apart.<br \/>\nThe bindings of books<br \/>\ngrew thinner and thinner.<br \/>\nA crimson apocalypse<br \/>\ntore loose in the address books of paper.<br \/>\nToo many pens were broken<br \/>\nat the lecterns of poetics;<br \/>\ntoo much ink<br \/>\nhad stained the spaces between fingers.<\/p>\n<p>Purple had passed.<\/p>\n<p>Winter days,<br \/>\nsealed away little by little in jars.<br \/>\nIt turned out<br \/>\na stealthy enemy had long been waiting<br \/>\nat the world&#8217;s doorstep.<br \/>\nNo one noticed<br \/>\nthe one entering through the doors,<br \/>\nwatching through the windows,<br \/>\nrising through the chimneys<br \/>\nbeneath a black cloak.<\/p>\n<p>Far too tightly stretched<\/p>\n<p>were the strings<br \/>\nof the guitar within us.<br \/>\nThe calendar pages<br \/>\nwere on the verge of tearing free,<br \/>\nbefore their appointed time.<\/p>\n<p>The world was but a traveller,<br \/>\nforever circling<br \/>\nin an unknown orbit<br \/>\nof chaos.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>With the hands of the virgin wind &nbsp; The wave that kept asking after the shore for forty years would turn into coffee for the foam.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1914,77],"tags":[1915,1123,1925],"class_list":["post-16518","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-91","category-english","tag-egophobia-91","tag-english","tag-ugur-olgar"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-4iq","jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16518","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=16518"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16518\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16519,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16518\/revisions\/16519"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=16518"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=16518"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=16518"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}