WIND, ANT, HISTORY
by Özdemir İnce
(translated by Talat Sait Halman)

The wind had hanged itself on the plane tree
"death is God's command," they said, "but why did he destroy himself?
he was young, brave, had a bright future,
like magic, all things good and beautiful were his."

It was autumn,
rain kept coming down in torrents,
an ant drenched way down to its marrows
was looking for the safety of a hole
among the fibers of the oily rope.
"Let me pass on a secret to you," said the ant to the rain:
"this wind didn't commit suicide, they hanged him."