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original poem in English and retranslated from Turkish back to English

Gluttons (original)

It is 03.28 on the second day and my fridge is full of Pınar Doğal Yoğurt. There is a haze of lights outside my window. I’m at REAL shopping centre. Prayers crowned the air. I was a translated clam. This is where the world's nuts are made. I'm waiting for the ruins of a Roman bath. I'm waiting for the temple of Augustus. I'm waiting for the Monument to a Secure Confident Future! Everybody seems hard on the face but soft in the mouthholes.

It is 06.42. I've slept one hour. 15 min till I am supposed to awake. It was a night with my life. Or parts thereof. Snow and microbrews, ping pong beer, erotic nights in hotel rooms. Paper routes and swimming pools. Little boy and big boy. Dusty hands against the window, sweaty trousers and moldy cheese. Hands on the nightstand. Running & running round the tracks. Jesus on the ceiling. Angel light from passing trucks. Tootsie rolls from Mormon missionaries. Las Vegas lakes and rocket ships.

It is 09.00. It has rained and the red clay of Ankara sicks to my soles. The stones glow at the old gate. This is an ongoing nomadic poetics. I'm drinking Seftali Nektari in the east campus cafeteria. In this garden of dark howls i search for my twin. Cleaners clean around me. When you awake what sticks to your skin? Who colours these keenings? The old has been sold. Culling the senses in this cold wind I have felt the devouring. Praise the whirling dervish. The ecstasy of petals on an empty platter. The non-arousing of hotel erotics. The corona is in the clinic. I'm 90% glutton free.


AFTER GOOGLE TRANSLATE FROM ENGLISH TO TURKISH BACK TO ENGLISH

03.28 and second day that my fridge is full of Pinar natural yoghurt. Lights outside my window is a haze. I'm worse than REAL mall. Air crowned prayers. I was translated oysters. Made it the world is nuts. I'm waiting for the remains of a Roman bath. I'm waiting for the temple of Augustus. Monument to a Secure Future Confident I'm waiting! Everyone seems on the face of tough but soft mouthholes.

It was 06.42. I slept for an hour. If I wake up offense 15 min. Was a night of my life. Or tracks. Snow and microbrews, ping pong, beer, erotic night in the hotel rooms. Paper paths and swimming pools. Small children and older children. Windows, sweaty hands, pants and Dusty against moldy cheese. Hands on the bedside table. Running and running tracks round. Jesus on the ceiling. Angel of light trucks to pass. Mormon missionaries from the Tootsie rolls. Lake Las Vegas and rocket ships.

It was 9:00. Ankara sicks red clay base and I have it rained. Ancient stones glow at the door. This is a continuing nomadic poetry. I'm drinking peach nectar in the east campus cafeteria. My nation is the dark twin to call it in the garden. Cleaners to clean around me. What sticks to your skin when awake? Who is this keenings colors? The former is sold. Culled in the sense that the cold wind I felt I was devouring. Dervish returned the praise. ecstasy leaves an empty plate. Arousing non EROTICS hotel. Corona has a clinic. I am free 90% gluttonous.

Comments

Simon Howard said…
Marcus - that's wonderfully beautiful (I know beautiful can be a suspect word/un-idea: but it really is).
& I like the blog makeover!
postpran said…
Thanks so much Simon :-) :-) :-) Nice to know someone is reading and enjoying. Hope you are doing well.
Simon Howard said…
I always enjoy your work, Marcus :-). I'm doing OK, thanks; some ideas for a sequence I'm working at.

I like feeding texts into automatic translation machines - some interesting results doing that, then feeding the translation from, say, English back into the machine & asking it to 'retranslate' into the original language. Makes a change from Solitaire!
postpran said…
hm . . . sounds like an interesting project Simon. I like it!!! Will give it a go as well :-)

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