Talip Işık

He was born in 1968 in Küçükçınar village, Adana. He graduated from the Faculty of Theology of Marmara University (1993). He earned his Master’s Degree at the Administration and Organization Department of Ahmet Yesevi University. For a long time, he served as a teacher and as the Advisor to a Deputy at the Grand National Assembly of Turkey as well being the Ankara Branch Head of Turkish Writers Union. Currently Talip Işık occupies the positions of Department Head at the Ministry of Labor and Social Services and the advisor to the Minister. His first poem entitled “My Mother” was published in Kadın ve Aile – Woman and Family magazine (1988). His writings and poems appeared in magazines including Yeni Sıla, Yazı Atölyesi, Dil ve Edebiyat, Nida, Kardelen, Müslüman Genç, Bir Nokta, Yeni Ufuk, Ay Vakti, Kırağı, Kadın ve Aile, Yeni Dünya, MEB Eğitim Dergisi, Buruciye Edebiyat, Şehrengiz, Âyine, Berceste, and Yeni Edebiyat Yaprağı. Being a screenwriter and some of his lyrics composed, Talip Işık was awarded with the first prize at the competition organized by Nida magazine with his poem called “Tuana”.

His Poetry Books: Tuana-Toprak Kahırlı Bugün – Tuana-Today with Distressed Soil (1996), Adını İsyan Koydum Aşkın – I Named Love as a Revolt (2009), Yağmuru Beklemez Mısralarım – Naat – My Lines Don’t Wait of the Rain – Eulogy (2011).

The Geography of Lost Dreams

a child becomes a river and blends
a hell of a lot dreams gather by its banks
a very pale winter takes of its clothes
atrocity is bare-naked in Nineveh

a woman becomes a river meandering down to the horizons
a hell of a lot sorrow accumulates in her hair
under the still waters
people die accompanied by their pains

the shadows stretch to the soil
the man becomes a sea
letting his body go to the sand
the autumn passes and the summer arrives
the wind on the mane of the voluminous horses
wandering its lips
the child gets up from its golden dreams
the woman from her hair
poppies bloom in the fields
as if they pamper the soil

the river gets shot in its dreams
dikes are disassembled in city’s veins
the Tigris streams in great pain
its wound is the wound of the Turkoman
his black eyes bleed and bleed
laments touch the heart and becomes your face
it becomes the soil and my voice descends at down like love
it becomes a rain and my breath
touches your longing

the flowers die of love
the stars die and their scent has an air of you
the waters stream and check the soul of Babylon
Babylon looks to be you

English Translation by Mesut Şenol