Fahriye Abla (*)

   The air filled with a pungent charcoal smell
       And the doors closed before sunset;
 From that neighborhood as languid as a laudanum
You are the only surviving trace in my memory, you
  Who smiled at the vast light of her own dreams.
  With your eyes, your teeth, and your white neck
    What a sweet neighbor you were, Fahriye abla!

       Your house was as small as a neat box;
    Its balcony thickly intertwined and the shades
       Of ivies at the tiny hours of the sunset
       Washed over in a nearby hidden brook.
A green flowerpot stood in your window all year round
    And in spring acacias blossomed in your garden
  What a charming neighbor you were, Fahriye abla!

  Earlier you had long hair, then short and styled;
Light-complexioned, you were as tall as an ear of corn,
    Your wrists laden with ample golden bracelets
              Tickled the heart of all men
 And occasionally your short skirt swayed in the wind.
           You sang mostly obscene love songs
       What a sexy neighbor you were, Fahriye Abla!

    Rumors had it that you were in love with that lad
   And finally you were married to a man from Erzincan
 I don't know whether you still live with your first husband
  Or whether you are in Erzincan of snowy mountaintops.
      Let my heart recollect the long-forgotten days
     Things that live in memory do not change by time
       What a nice neighbor you were, Fahriye Abla!

				
                                Ahmet Muhip Dranas

                            Translated by Osman Turkay (1982)

(*) Literally, ``elder sister''; often used as a term of affection or 
    respect for a somewhat older girl or woman.