Hubli Poem by Ulas Basar Gezgin

No, that is not me, my dear, I am not Peter,
My heart has been beating for other climates...

For example, my mind was wandering in Malaysia yesterday...
Even if it looks like my heart is in my bosom,
No my dear, definitely no, I don't belong to here...

The rice fields at Tibetan ridges...
Do you know what color the flowers are in Sudan? ..
Ethiopians too know how to dream...

No, that is not me, my dear, I am not Peter,
Adore somebody else, not me, idolize somebody else,
My existence persists as long as I dream...

What do we have beyond the Tropic of Cancer?
What kind of a fish is common on Angolan shores?
I would say 'your soul is dead', if you learn about these only by the books...

Leaving my last lung into Ürümqi,
After serving the first one to the Caspian Sea,
This will be the most joyful premium for me.

No, that is not me, my dear, I am not Peter,
Who would comfort you with picnics, with Caribbeans...
I wish that all my days would be like my Sundays,
So many pebbles in my pocket, remember I told you I was not Peter...

One day I was completely lost in the Sea of Oman,
While accompanying an exhausted dolphin,
I wouldn't know whether I would lose my breath or not...

My destination brings me forward to the White streets in South Africa, with all my blackness,
I would swallow diamonds in Zambia, nobody would know...
Everybody knows that I had been shot multiple times in Rhodesia...

No, that is not me, my dear, I am not Peter,
Credit cards, all the bonds, all sorts of sales...
Once you cling on me, they just disappear...
No, that is not me, my dear, I am telling you, I am not Peter,
Mostly, it is an Indian name, Hubli is my name...

2001