There are two perhaps interesting aspects of this sonnet not apparent in the poem itself, though I hope it stands "sufficient unto itself". The more immediate aspect is that the poet, I, have resided in Teos (now Turkish, SIgacIk), not "among the ruins" but atop the walls of its more nearly contemporary site -- if the almost medieval farming and fishing village set amidst crumbled Renaissance-era fortifications can be termed "contemporary". My wife and I have been here for seven years and propose to remain indefinitely.

Secondly, the physical setting of Teos, 1993 is a pleasant twenty minute walk along a rutted, olive-bordered track leading from near my home. I know the place in all seasons, even Christmas Eve at midnight -- the time of the poem being, however, August, as "Cicada in the pines..." indicates. In May and June the ruins loom among the plush and trembling wild plants of an almost painfully brilliant green. In August the vegetation is dry and flaxen. In winter, at night, the Aegean stars are bright in the cool air.

One other aspect relating to Teos, 1993 is that there exists another poem, Teos, 1973 written by me at a time when I had no thought of coming here to live. In fact, when I wrote the later work I had forgotten about the former. Destiny? Kismet? Did Anakreon, the most renowned poet of Teos's classical age, and my muse, pull me home?

The above-described circumstances, and metaphysical ("manevi" in Turkish) auras surround the poem.
TSD (May '97)

Teos, 1993

There has to be a lizard on the wall,
Alert above the lichen-whitened fall
Of column-segments random cast, with tall
And green-black cypress shadows rounding all,
Cicadas in the pines a pulsing call
Across the shaken stairs, the shattered hall
Where only fragile caper tendrils crawl
Beneath the plundered platform's holy pall.
The heats of noon should eddy through the stone,
Each scroll or blurred inscription sharply shown
At summer's ending, bending grasses blown
Awry and dry and flaxen...Be alone,
And find a figure carved by one unknown
And with your finger find his hands' warm tone.

Thomas Steele Drach
(28 September 1993, SIgacIk, Turkey )

DuvarIn üstünde bir kertenkele olmasI gerekiyor.

Bu kertenkele rasgele etrafa dökülmüs üzerleri
yosun kalIntIlarIyla beyazlasmIs sütun parçalarInIn
üzerinde çok uyanIk.

Hepsini siyah-yesil selvi gölgeleri çevreliyor.

SallanIp dökülmüs merdivenlerin karsIsInda
çam agaçlarInda Agustos böcekleri bagrIsIyorlar.

Parçalara ayrIlmIs salon, ki orada sadece çok zarif
ve kolayca incinebilen kapari asma filizleri
emekleyerek tIrmanIyorlar.

YagmalanmIs platformlarIn altInda kutsal bir duygu.

Ögle sIcaklarI bu taslar arasInda
fIrIl fIrIl dönmeli.

Sütun baslarI veya bulanIk yazIlar
keskin bir sekilde görülüyor.

Yaz sonlarInda bükülen otlar etrafa üflenip kurumus
ve keten rengine dönüsmüs...

YalnIz ol, ve bilinmeyen birisi tarafIndan islenmis
bir sekil bul, ve parmaklarInla
onun ellerinin sIcaklIgInI hisset.
(May 1997)

Eski harabeler Teos denildigi zaman, sunu hatIrlarsIn;

Rasgele etrafa saçIlmIs üzerleri yosun kalIntIlaryla beyazlasmIs sütun parçalarInIn ve duvarlarIn üstünde bir uyanIk kertenkele.

Ve bunlarIn hepsini çevreleyen koyu-yesil selvi gölgeleri.

Bu harabede sarsIlIp dökülen merdivenleri karsIsInda bagrIsan Agustos böcekleri.

Parçalara ayrIlmIs bir salon, ki orada sadece zarif ve kolayca incinebilen kapari asma filizlerinin emekleyerek tIrmandIgInI.

Ve yagmalanmIs platformlarIn altInda yatan kutsal bir duyguyu.

YazIn ögle saatlerinde bu taslar arasInda fIrIl fIrIl dönen sIcagI.

Keskin bir sekilde görülen sütun baslarI ve üzerindeki hemen hemen silinmis yazIlarI.

Yaz sonlarInda boynu bükülmüs, kurumus, keten rengine dönüsmüs ve etrafa üflenmis otlarI.

Eger bütün bunlarI anlamak istiyorsan, yalnIz ol, ve bilinmeyen birisi tarafIndan islenmis bir tas bul, ve parmaklarInla onun o tas üzerinde sanatInI icra ederken verdigi emegin ve onun ellerinin sIcaklIgInI duy.
(May 1997)

Thomas Steele Drach

1928 --

Tom Drach's mother was a teacher and his father a lawyer where he was born in Pennsylvania. Soon after his birth, the family picked up stakes, moving west where Tom grew up in Ohio -- along the shores of Lake Erie. After he finished High School, he attended Columbia University in New York, Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, and Arizona University in Tuscon -- where he studied World Literature, History, Fine Arts, and Education, somewhat in that order. It might not surprise you to hear that he's done a fair share of teaching during his life, but what about this...He's also been a merchant marine on the Great Lakes, an archaeologist's assistant for the Smithsonian, a hospital aide, a restaurateur -- and somewhere along the way, he even found time to do a U.S. Army service stint in Japan. He's also travelled all of Canada, the US, and Mexico -- and has lived many good years in Crete, Italy, Holland, and now Turkey. He and his wife Barbara (more than 40 years of marriage) believe they've finally found their heaven on earth and are settled comfortably in SIgacIk (old Teos) near the thriving little town of Seferihisar, which itself is about 15 miles south of Izmir (old Smyrna), Turkey. Tom plays piano, and has a robust collection of records, tapes and CD's to satisfy all of his and wife Barbara's musical tastes -- which range from Classical, to Folk, Jazz, and Pop.

And BTW, Herodotus (you remember...the historian) once proclaimed that ancient Ionia had the best climate in the world -- at least the world as it was known in his time. Why -- even today it still has a legitimate claim to compete for that honor. And since old Teos (modern SIgacIk) sits almost equidistant between the northern and southern extremities of old Ionia (along the Aegean coast of Modern Turkey), it can fairly boast to have the best of the best. You don't believe us...? Then come visit and see for yourself.
JM, May '97