The Machine

At ten in the morning:

The wheel of the machine

Started moving

With a slightly terrifying noise

The moments started rolling

Along with the wheel,

Most obediently and devoutly;

Did I take the pen in my hand

Oh! I don’t remember that

It was beyond the fog of numbness

Oh! What a surprise,

It is noon already!

Yes, first of all,

The letters in my page,

Then, the ink in my pen,

Following them, my pen,

And at last, my fingers,

Have crawled and crawled

Along with the wheel

And at last, they have corroded

With the iron of the wheel

At five in the evening:

Oh my God, is it evening!

I have already lost my fingers,

So, I looked at my body

Oh heavens! It has happened

Exactly what I expected

Each of my organs

Have been blended with the wheel!

By Ismail Meladi