Selected Poems of Nâzým Hikmet



I'M GETTING USED TO GROW OLD

I'm getting used to grow old to the world's hardest art,
to knocking at the doors for the last time,
to non-stop separation.
The hours, you flow, flow, flow...
I'm trying to understand at the cost of losing faith.
I was going to tell you something but I couldn't.
In my world the taste of my hungrily morning cigarette.
Death has sent me its loneliness before itself.
I'm jealous of those who are not aware of getting old,
they are so over-busy in their work.

                                                                    12 January 1963

                                                                  tr. by Fuat Engin