Twelve Narratives of the Gypsy

(excerpt)

And they were from faraway lands
in the darkness of midnight
endlessly walking
day in and day out
as if they had lost their way
and had also slowly lost
their care and concern,
opinion and memory
and every hope, infantry
that left behind a homeland
and won’t ever find it
in front of them.
Criers of flutes sighed their
sweetest, secret aches,
ripped and skinned echoes
sounds from tamburines,
horns and zurnas
that wounded people and spread
further out over the white
path and with their rising dust they
fogged the sight of the dark
blue mountain; and heavy loaded
caravans passed. Suddenly
the odd curse, like an animal’s
stirring, was heard and

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