The Galata Bridge

Hanging around on the Bridge,

Gleefully I watch all of you...

Out there, some of you row backward

Or pick mussels off the buoys;

Some clutch the rudders of barges

Or catch the ropes on the dock,

And the birds in flight, like poems,

And the glittering fish;

Then the ferryboats and floats,

Clouds drifting in the air,

Tugboats with funnels lowered

Glide quickly under the Bridge;

Over there, the whistles blow,

I watch the smoke curl up and go.

But all of you, all of you...

Struggle to make ends meet.

Am I the only one who has fun?

Never mind, maybe some day

I'll write a poem about all of you,

Make a couple of bucks

And get something to eat.