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CONTENTS
AKIN, Gülten
Hymn for the Troubled Poet
Hymn for Iron and Rust
Song for an Ageless Woman
The Geranium
Autumn
Winter
Spring
Summer
Errata
Fairy Abode
Nahit Hanım
I Loved You
I would have Smiled
Winter Journey
ARIF, Ahmed
My unforgettable one
Your Love for Me
Locked-up
BÜYUKAKSOY, Vecihe
Bulgurlu Zade Rifat Bey
DİRANAS,Ahmet Muhip
You and the Sky
HALMAN, Talat
The Letter
3
The Pupils of the Hungry Ones
The Song of the Sun Drinkers
A Tale of Separation
Testament
Prison Letters: Istanbul
Bitkiler Ipeklisinden
Before the Time Runs Out, My Rose
To Asian and African Writers
From the Epic of the National Independence Struggle
The Multitudes
1918-1919: The Story of the Black Snake
The Month of August: Our Women
Blue-Eyed Giant, Tiny Woman and Honeysuckle
To Paul Robeson
My Idea of a Sailor
To my Uncle
To my Martyred Uncle
My own Uncle
To my Country
For my Martyred Uncle
For my Martyred Uncle- 2
Samiye’s Cat
The Youth
Untitled – 2 poems
In Five Lines
[Does not include poems of Nazim Hikmet translated in collaboration with Rosette Avigdor]
ILHAN, Attila
Ancient Marine Folk
the notes of bespectacled Hamdi
Birds of Imagination
Mehmet Siragadlari
connectives
A song in my heart
Poem with the sound of “CH” as in Selchuk (Kochaklama, Eulogy)
turkey
teatime in emirgan
time for work
KADIR, A.
My Life
NECATIGIL, Behçet
Time Slipping
NEYZI, Ali
4
Olympus Cove
TANSEL, Oguz
On the way to Sarikiz
Market Place
The Quail
The Immutable Law
Nomad Girl
Poplar Tree
Willow Tree
Oleaster Tree
Awakening
The Imaginary Journey
The Village
The Meadow
The City
Pigeons
Our Forgotten Rule
Kindam, Dazzling Beauty –
Dazzling Beauty – I
Dazzling Beauty – IX
Dazzling Beauty – X (Full Gallop)
Dazzling Beauty - XI
Dazzling Beauty – XII
Universe of Dazzling Beauty
Blue Sky
Difficult Longing
Dervish Musa
The Middle East: A Volcano
No to War
The Night of Hope
Respect for Reason
Gossip
The Pool
Native of the New World (To Asturias)
5
Blue Sea
Dear Life
TURAN, Omer
mother’s house
VELI, Orhan
For those who are nostalgic for the Sea
The first mornings of the spring
In between
Some days
Toward Freedom
Open myself to the winds
Listening to Istanbul
Suddenly
The Mermaid
The Cornelian Cherry
On the sea’s horizon
Of a cloud above our heads
Morning
YAVUZ, Hilmi
Infants of the East
ZIYALAN, Nihat
Echo
6
ABDAL, PIR SULTAN (16TH CENTURY)
1
Published in: Kemal Silay (ed.) An Anthology of Turkish Literature. Indiana University Turkish Studies & Turkish
Ministry of Culture Joint Series XV. Bloomington, Indiana, 1996
2
Published in: Kemal Silay (ed.) An Anthology of Turkish Literature. Indiana University Turkish Studies & Turkish
Ministry of Culture Joint Series XV. Bloomington, Indiana, 1996
7
I asked the yellow crocus
Where do you spend the winter
Dervish why should you ask
I spend the winter underground
AKIN, GŰLTEN3
Gűlten Akin (1933-2015) was born in the central Anatolian town of Yozgat in 1933. She graduated from
the Ankara School of Law in 1955. She worked as a lawyer and teacher and lived in different regions of
Turkey with her husband who had an administrative job. Her poetry is influenced by folklore and folk
3
The introductory note, "Sardunya" and "The Geranium" were published in TARS Review, Spring 2015.
8
poetry of Turkey. She combines this source of inspiration with a thoroughly modern sensibility that deals
with themes of nature, love, a feeling for history and social injustices. She has been active in defense of
human rights and social justice.
Far away from Ankara, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on a bright sunny fall day with yellow and red
leaves on the trees shimmering against a deep blue sky, I sadly learned about the passing away of our
beloved poet from our newspapers which I read every day on the internet. I was extremely distressed.
I translated several of her poems into English and they were published in anthologies of Turkish literature.
Gulten Akin was the truly authentic voice of Turkish literature. In her productive life she published at many
volumes of poetry and prose that brought her prestigious literary awards. Her poems were always
inspired by Turkish landscapes and people residing in them; her penetrating gaze went beyond simple
observations to the deepest thoughts and feelings of people, in a sense deep into their souls. It was the
outlook of a woman who had lived and worked in different parts of the country and was well versed in the
nuances of the Turkish language spoken in those parts.
Poverty and injustice were major themes of her poems. She often wrote about women and children and
the oppressive power of men over them. She believed that the roots of Turkish social literature existed in
the folk literature and poetry and in the lives of the people. Her aim was to elevate the substance and
forms which existed among people in a dialectical manner that would eventually help to improve their
lifestyles. The staleness of styles, slavish dependence on books, and the cheap sentimentalism of a
muddled language were her antagonists. Hopefulness, faithfulness to life and to a simple heartwarming
language were Gülten Akın’s most cherished values.
She can sleep in peace as generation after generation will read and admire her poems which exalted
Turkish language and literature to new heights.
4
Published in: Kemal Silay (ed.) An Anthology of Turkish Literature. Indiana University Turkish Studies & Turkish
Ministry of Culture Joint Series XV. Bloomington, Indiana, 1996
9
My hawk is tied in chains,
A carnation in its beak.
This cruel conflict,
I cannot, cannot resolve, my son.
10
Are the only ones we talk with –
If you can call that talking.
11
With your womanly motherly fertile hands
We made a pillow for your silvery head
From rose petals brought from the mountains
Take a rest now.
THE GERANIUM7
AUTUMN8
7
Published in: Kemal Silay (ed.) An Anthology of Turkish Literature. Indiana University Turkish Studies & Turkish
Ministry of Culture Joint Series XV. Bloomington, Indiana, 1996. Also published in Turkish Area Studies Review,
No. 27, Spring 2016
8
Published in: Kemal Silay (ed.) An Anthology of Turkish Literature. Indiana University Turkish Studies & Turkish
Ministry of Culture Joint Series XV. Bloomington, Indiana, 1996
12
Autumn is here I am bleary-eyed and blind.
Autumn is here I know my hair is falling out.
They say I was born in the highland beyond the seas.
I feel its ups and downs in my knees.
For the things of this world one must have the world’s money.
You eked out a pitiful twenty-five liras from the land.
Buy our shroud, don’t forget the soap and the scrubber,
Reserve a bit of paradise with the money for the Hoja.
13
I married sons, raised daughters and reached the age of thirty.
WINTER
Tell me, my loon, is the sparrow a bird, the sprat a fist, are we human?
Don't weep my loon, our graves will overflow,
14
Leave the dead alone. Let My Memedali go,
To market to buy for you flannel cloth and shiny shoes.
SPRING
Their breasts contain a little pus, a little fish and a few tears.
Open sea, you turn yourself into a giant.
In the evenings your fog enters through the mouths
Of the streams and invade our hazel trees.
What can we do with the wizened buds?
We implore our children: "Stay hungry for a while."
We implore the traders: " Make fewer drawings
Of hotels, of secret mergers, of banks. .."
A plea from us to you and to all the others.
We send our wives to manicure their hands,
And say, " Yes sir, yes ma'am."
We send our children to beg,
We leave our hearths entrusting them to God,
We are the motorized gypsies of the summer.
15
We close our ears: money money money
We open our ears: fight fight fight
If someone asks: Why, but why, always fight?
Why axes against our neighbors, fists against our wives?
SUMMER
The year was sixty-eight; we'd gone through the forties and the fifties.
We lived in the sixties, we committed offenses.
The notices said: "Meet at Kizilay on May 5 at 5:00 p.m.”
We all had jobs to attend...
But Ankara had become the revolution's base.
16
In the forties we were seven. The military service was
Three years. They bragged that we stayed out of the war, ( they still brag).
At the age of seven going to school hungry was the rule.
--As the wheat was rotting beside furs and diamonds--
We went to school hungry ( maybe a hard roll and an orange for lunch).
17
Mays are beautiful, the stonecutters are brave,
Letting water run through porous stones.
The balladeers, the foul-mouthed fishermen,
The grave diggers, the snail-gathering girls,
The talkative smiling women, the wool-spinners,
Those who have seen massacres, the crafty traders,
Especially the revolutionaries, the revolutionaries,
Who make mistakes all the time but end up in righteousness,
Mays are beautiful.
The ladies and gentlemen dance till the morning hours for cancer benefits.
They take pity on the blind and the needy and collect receipts.
The black headlines announce "The Honorable Philanthropists."
For the idle businessmen.
-- Ah, that useless chemistry that thinks itself the genuine stuff--
Stay where you are, don't you dare to move,
Only drop in sometime like a socialist Jesus,
Wait on the side to emerge when needed.
May descends into Anatolia from its own streams,
May descends into Anatolia from its own mountains.
My beloved summer is here gain.
ERRATA
18
so erroneously that winter
but for whom, who had seen the errors
that woman one evening pretended
to abandon all her suspicions
winter within four walls
narrow room lukewarm proximity
the tolerance put on conspicuously
burdening the other heavily
the old narrow staircase
steps balustrade side rails
could not support all that
one stayed upstairs
the other one downstairs
in between
the handwritten corrections
of a faraway friend
too far away
FAIRY ABODE
19
“To wait an Hour – is long –
if Love be just beyond –”
if love is right in you
if you had maintained it
from the oldest time in your memory
there in that fairy abode
leave it to snow, to fog, to shadows
leave it to frayed dreams
it is the day for its slipping away to eternity
20
NAHIT HANIM
21
The lesson was over then that the stork-legged
“Stranger - Orhan Veli,”
wearing his old coat with its collar turned up,
would appear and take her away
I LOVED YOU9
9
Published in ÇN - Çeviri Edebiyatı, No. 11, 2010
22
I don’t like the darkness, if it were up to me
I would turn all the lights on in the evening
I am looking at a room, a woman is sitting
on the edge of an armchair as if about to stand up
You are leaning toward her
your face is near hers, your hand is on her shoulder
is she myself? I have forgotten it was so long ago
her head bent over the woman says
“I am tired of you”
WINTER JOURNEY
You bloomed,
Blue and green,
In my loneliness.
You bloomed,
Bright red, speckled and pure;
I could rise above griefs and treasons.
To go,
To go into exile in your eyes.
To be locked up,
To be locked up in the cage in your eyes.
Wherever they may be!
It isn't "To be or not to be,"
Or "Cogito ergo sum" either;
The real business is to understand the inevitable:
The avalanche that cannot be stopped,
The stream that flows forever.
To drink,
To drink the moonlight in your eyes.
To attain,
To attain life's miracle in your eyes.
Wherever they may be!
10
Published in: Kemal Silay (ed.) An Anthology of Turkish Literature. Indiana University Turkish Studies & Turkish
Ministry of Culture Joint Series XV. Bloomington, Indiana, 1996
24
YOUR LOVE FOR ME11
LOCKED-UP12
Hey stone wall! Do you know?
The iron gate, the black window?
My pillow, my bunk, my chains,
The sad picture in my cache,
For whose sake I almost died,
Do you know?
My visitor has brought me green onions,
My cigarettes have the aroma of cloves.
Oh, the spring has come in the mountains of my land.
11
Published in: Kemal Silay (ed.) An Anthology of Turkish Literature. Indiana University Turkish Studies & Turkish
Ministry of Culture Joint Series XV. Bloomington, Indiana, 1996
12
Published in: Kemal Silay (ed.) An Anthology of Turkish Literature. Indiana University Turkish Studies & Turkish
Ministry of Culture Joint Series XV. Bloomington, Indiana, 1996
25
BÜYUKAKSOY, VECIHE
29
Our carriage clung onto the side of a mountain.
Heights everywhere loneliness all over,
But for the sound of the whistle coming from the lips of the carter!
The roads seemed to stretch, turn and bend with this whistle.
Serpentine roads that seemed fast asleep,
Raised their heads to the silence so deep.
The sky was getting cloudy the wind chilly,
The rain started coming down in a fine drizzle.
After the last climb the land became so flat,
We turned ashen by the sight of this tableland.
The roads like ribbons tied us up to the horizon,
The strange land was pulling me incessantly to itself.
The road, always the road the flatland had no end...
Not a village to be seen not even the illusion of a hovel,
Deserted roads constantly reminding of one’s mortality.
Only an occasional rider or a couple of foot-travelers passing by.
The wheels rattling over the jagged stones,
Were telling stories to the roads.
And the long sprawling roads shook with this noise...
Abandoning myself to the sound of the wheels,
I lay down and fell asleep on a mattress in the carriage.
Since that day many years have come and gone by,
But when I see an inn on my travels I tremble.
Because I know the secret tales it may contain,
Oh! The unhappy roads that connect the villages to the borders,
The unhappy roads mourning for the travelers who never come back!
Oh! The walls of caravanserais full of strange designs,
Oh! The walls that break my heart...
33
I even forget to breathe,
As though I am eternal!
And that sky above us,
Is so blue and so endless.
That sky is so real;
That big, big, big, giant flower.
HALMAN, TALAT
THE LETTER
34
Like the cooing of the pigeons far from
the ablution fountain,
their withered hearts were calmed.
36
BARE FEET
The sun
over our heads
a turban of fire.
parched earth
chariks14 for our bare feet
Beside us
a peasant
more dead than his old mule he's not beside us
he's
in our boiling blood. No wrap on the shoulders
no whip in hand
no horse, no cart
no gendarmes
we passed through
villages like bear-dens
muddy towns
bald mountains.
That's how we traveled in that land! We listened
to the sound of stony fields in the watery eyes
of the old oxen. We saw that
the earth does not yield
its golden ears of grain
to black ploughs.
We didn't travel as if in a dream
No,
we reached one rubbish heap after another. That's how we traveled in that land.
We know
what that land
is longing for.
This longing
is made up
like a materialist's mind, this longing
is for matter
matter!
Low-lying
14
charik – simple peasant shoe made of raw hide
37
hovels
with dour façades
are lined up
in streets like mole holes.
Jinn-eyed
pigeon-tongued
wearers of fine cotton turbans sit cross-legged in stores.
In front of them
peasants with chapped soles
in rawhide chariks.
A burly gendarme
drags a couple
who committed
adultery in a field.
In the coffee house
the master dervish
hankering after the novice intones deeply "Lahavle-ve-la"
spits on the faces
of the couple.
Over there
in this sleepy squalid run-down town
love is not romantic
Its soul is hungry
for two lively words: STEAM
ELECTRICITY!
38
with them.
The mountains and the fields are longing passionately like a desiring woman
for machines
with souls of steam
every cog with 1000 horsepower becoming iron and ploughing the earth like churning
water!
O gentlemen
with yellow glass bellies
that gurgle like hookahs
O gentlemen
riding in your three-horse carriages
sighing â la Pierre Loti
to deaf
noseless
blind
peasants gentlemen
with bridled mouths
and hands
holding pens!
We're sick and tired of your lying tales.
From now on
you must get
into your
heads:
Peasants are longing for land
and the land
is longing for machines!
Yalnayak, 1922
Not a few
15
Published in: Erhan Turgut (ed.) Nazim Hikmet. Editions Turquoise, Paris, September 2002.
39
not five or ten thirty million
hungry ones are ours!
They belong
to us!
We belong
to them!
The waves belong
to the sea!
The sea belongs
to the waves!
Not a few
not five or ten
30,000,000
30,000,000!
They are
the walking scraps
of those parched lands!
Some of them
are carrying their bloated bellies
that are knocking against their bony knees!
Some of them
nothing but skin only their eyes
are living!
From far
all black protrusions
stretch point by point
like a vein piercing nail
of a horseshoe
mad pupils,
pupils!
Ah those
40
those who have such a pain,
those
who stare in such a way
Our pain is endless!
endless!
endless!
But
our beliefs cannot be done away with!
Our breasts are hard as iron
because our pain is
30,000,000
mad pupils!
Pupils!
0, man!
you listen
to me
with your mouth wide open!
Perhaps behind my back
you call me
"insane"
for howling
my heart out!
If you are
a goose
like the others
if you can't grasp the meaning of my words
Just look at my eyes;
they are:
Mad pupils
Pupils!
This is a song:
the song of those
16
Published in: Erhan Turgut (ed.) Nazim Hikmet. Editions Turquoise, Paris, September 2002.
41
who drink the sun in earthen bowls!
This is a tress:
a tress of flame!
it is twisting;
it is burning like a bloody crimson torch
on the dark brows of
the heroes with bare copper feet!
I too saw those heroes,
I too braided that tress,
I too crossed with them
the bridge
going to the sun!
I too drank the sun in earthen bowls.
I too sang that song!
Our hearts took their speed from the earth
we stretched ourselves
by tearing the mouths
of golden-maned lions!
We sprang:
we rode the lightning wind!
The eagles
swooping
from the cliffs
flapped light-gilded wings.
Flame-wristed riders whipped
prancing horses!
There is a raid on
a raid to the sun!
We will conquer the sun
the conquest of the sun is near!
There is a raid on
a raid to the sun!
We will conquer the sun
the conquest of the sun is near!
There is a raid on
a raid to the sun!
We will conquer the sun
the conquest of the sun is near!
There is a raid on
a raid to the sun!
We will conquer the sun
the conquest of the sun is near!
A TALE OF SEPARATION17
44
and how,
Like squeezing my heart in my palms
like something made of glass
breaking it
madly
until my fingers bleed."
45
THEY EMBRACED
TESTAMENT18
As to my silent neighbors,
martyr Ayşe and farmhand Osman
18
Published in: Erhan Turgut (ed.) Nazim Hikmet. Editions Turquoise, Paris, September 2002.
46
they bore that great longing all their lives perhaps
without even noticing.
My darling,
heads forward. eyes open as far as one can see,
red glow of burning cities,
trampled crops
endless stamping of feet
go on and on.
And people are slaughtered
more easily
more smoothly
in larger numbers
than the trees and the calves.
My darling,
In the din of stamping feet, in this massacre
I happened to lose my freedom, my daily bread and you.
yet in the midst of hunger, darkness and screams
I never lost my faith for the days to come
that would knock on our door with sunny hands.
19
Published in: Erhan Turgut (ed.) Nazim Hikmet. Editions Turquoise, Paris, September 2002.
47
2
I love my country –
I have swung on its plane trees,
I was locked up in its jails.
But nothing can take my blues away
like the songs and tobacco of my country.
My country –
Bedreddin, Sinan, Yunus Emre and Sakarya…
Lead covered domes and factory chimneys
are the work of my people; their laughter
under their droopy moustaches seems hidden even from themselves.
My country:
My country is vast –
wandering from place to place it seems endless.
Edirne, Izmir, Ulukışla, Maraş, Trabzon, Erzurum…
I know the highlands of Erzurum only from songs,
I am ashamed that I’ve never crossed the Taurus mountains,
to go southward
to meet the cotton pickers.
My country:
camels, trains, Ford cars, and sickly donkeys,
poplars
willows
and the red earth.
My country:
Pine forests and spring waters,
and the trout that loves the lakes in the mountains;
a one pounder, scaleless, silver-skinned with red specks
swims in Bolu’s lake Abant.
My country:
Goats in the plains of Ankara –
their long silky light brown hair glistening.
Oily big hazelnuts of Giresun.
49
Apples of Amasya with scented red cheeks,
olives
figs
melons
and bunches and bunches
of grapes of many colors
and then the black wooden plough
then the black oxen
then my hard-working, honest and brave people
who are ready to welcome everything
progressive, beautiful and good
with the joyful enthusiasm of children
half hungry, half full,
half-slave…
BITKILER IPEKLISINDEN
50
BEFORE THE TIME RUNS OUT, MY ROSE20
Before the time runs out, my rose, Before Paris is burned and
20
Published in ÇN - Çeviri Edebiyatı - No. 9, 2009
51
destroyed,
52
never mind my blond hair
I am an Asian
never mind my blue eyes
I am an African
eighty percent of my people are illiterate
poems wander from mouth to mouth turning into songs
poems can become banners where I come from
just like the ones where you come from
my brothers and my sisters
our poems yoked to the skinny ox should be able to till the land
our poems knee deep in mud should enter the rice fields
our poems should be able to ask all the questions
our poems should be able to gather all the lights
our poems like the milestones
should be able to stand at the crossroads
see the approaching enemy before anyone else
beat the tom-toms in the jungles
and until on this earth not a single slave country or slave
not a single atomic cloud remain
our poems should be able to give all they have
their minds, their souls and their lives
for the great freedom.
53
FROM THE EPIC OF THE NATIONAL INDEPENDENCE STRUGGLE
THE MULTITUDES
Iron
coal
and sugar
and red copper
and textiles
and love, cruelty and life
and all the branches of industry
and the sky
and the desert
and the blue ocean
and the gloomy river beds
and the ploughed soil and the cities
their fate changes one morning at dawn,
at dawn when from the edge of darkness
54
they press their heavy hands against the earth
and rise.
-Onlar
Black Snake
before he became Black Snake
was a farmhand in the Antep villages.
Perhaps he was contented, or not contented,
55
he had no time to think about such things.
Black Snake
before he become Black Snake
used to live like a field mouse
and was as cowardly as a field mouse.
Bravery is possible only with horses, guns and land.
He did not possess horses or guns or land.
His neck was as thin as a twig
his head was enormous.
Black Snake
before he became Black Snake
seeing the end of the black snake
shouted at the top of his voice
the first thought of his life
And said:
"Heed a lesson, my crazy heart,
if death finds the black snake behind the white rock,
it can find you too even if you hide in an iron trunk."
57
And when he who had been
as cowardly as a field mouse
ran and sprang forward
the people of Antep were aroused
they followed him.
They beat the enemy on the hills.
And to him who had lived like a field mouse,
who had been as cowardly as a field mouse
they gave the name BLACK SNAKE.
OUR WOMEN
58
The oxcarts were moving with their solid oak wheels
and they
were the first wheels turning in the moonlight
Under the moonlight the oxen
were puny and short
as if they had come from a different tiny planet,
their sickly, broken horns twinkled
beneath their feet flowed
the earth,
the earth
and the earth.
Kadinlarimiz
60
where many-colored honeysuckle
bloomed.
TO PAUL ROBESON23
October 1949
23
Published in: Erhan Turgut (ed.) Nazim Hikmet. Editions Turquoise, Paris, September 2002.
24
A legendary lover in Turkish folklore
61
MY IDEA OF A SAILOR
December 3, 1914
TO MY UNCLE
Dayima
TO MY MARTYRED UNCLE
62
Be calm
Don't look at me and make me tremble
Yes, you will be avenged
You're the son of the martyrs
You will be avenged
You're the grandson of the Oguz.
Sehit Dayima
MY OWN UNCLE
Benim Dayim,1915
TO MY COUNTRY
Ah my poor country
Why is she crying like this
Why because her children
Don't take good care of her
Mother - Go my son go
Serve your country
Shed your blood
Give all that you have for her
Say goodbye to your betrothed, to your village
Say goodbye to all that you have
64
That's why I love my uncle
In my heart I always keep
The highest respect for him.
June 1915
SAMIYE'S CAT
Samiye'nin Kedisi
THE YOUTH
To My Father
65
The road of the sky-high mountains
Is covered with the bones and souls of brothers
1949
66
1949
IN FIVE LINES
ILHAN, ATTILA25
Attilȃ İlhan (1925-2005) can be described as a true son of the modern Turkish republic with a deeply
inquiring mind that made him both an admirer and a critic of the new society.
He was born in Menemen where his father was a district official. Menemen was near the beautiful,
cultural Aegean city of Izmir with a past going back to ancient times. İlhan attended the public schools in
the Izmir area. At age sixteen he had the unfortunate experience of being arrested for leftist activities as a
communist, and the three months spent in jail with hardened criminals affected him deeply. He was also
taken to Manisa mental hospital for examination. These experiences were painful, but his ability to write
poems was not diminished, as he was already a published poet at the age of sixteen. Moving to Istanbul
gave him a wider milieu of literary experiences and the opportunity to meet many writers and poets in the
cafés they frequented. In the 1950s and 1960s he went to Paris and stayed there for some periods of
time, gaining a new perspective in relation to attitudes about political and sexual behavior, as well as a
deeper knowledge of French literature. He was fascinated by different types of men and women he
encountered in the night life of Paris. They became the subjects of many of the poems he wrote in this
25
The introductory note, "time for work" and "teatime in emirgan" were published in TAS Review, Spring 2017.
67
period. He also wrote poems about his travels, giving vivid impressions of places and people he met
abroad.
A prolific writer, İlhan published several volumes of poetry 26, plus novels and essays. His deep
involvement in the transformation of Turkey into a modern republic after the national struggle (1919-1922)
was the main theme of many of his books of essays. He was deeply concerned about the changes of
values in a new society. Some of his books of essays are titled Which Sex; Which West; Which Left; and
Which Literature; giving an idea of his concerns about accepting some Western values without critical
evaluation. He had a very strong patriotic side and was a great admirer of “Gazi Mustafa Kemal” (Atatürk)
and wrote a poem with the title "mustafa kemal." 27
İlhan explained his philosophy and ideas about art and literature in his essays and in many interviews,
including one to Cumhuriyet Kitap (‘Book Review’, October 28, 2000) which sums up his ideas and
beliefs. In that interview he defined himself as a Marxist, but he was a libertarian socialist. He had well
defined ideas about the development of the new Turkish literature and was critical of some modernistic
movements such as the Garip poetry group founded by Orhan Veli, Melih Cevdet Anday and Oktay Rifat.
His main criticism against Garip was their exclusion of lyricism and images in their poetry. İlhan was also
interested in a new synthesis that did not exclude the literature of the Ottoman past and gave a feeling of
classical poetry in a new social context.
An outstanding contributor to modern Turkish literature in the twentieth century, Attila İlhan was also an
innovator in the use of Turkish language, with an impressively deep and wide vocabulary including
Ottoman Turkish as well as folkloric elements. He was a poet following the tradition of poets deeply
involved in the search for freedom and the fight against tyranny like Namık Kemal (1840-1888), Tevfik
Fikret (1867-1915) and Nazim Hikmet (1902-1963). Nazim Hikmet commented on Attila İlhan's poetry by
saying that "duvar made me feel very happy. İlhan is a very noble and sincere poet."
27
sisler bulvarı (foggy boulevard), OK Yayınları, 1970, pp. 138-139.
68
drenched in blood
in glittery splendor
you can hear the ancient marine folk
if you listen
in the kinky marine taverns
the kinky marine folk
spanish songs italian wine
and as if you were god you invent curses
from the fifteenth meridian
to the twentieth
by yourself
you invent international curses
and from the libra mast
you god of curses splashings unknown things
you god of lost treasures
you won’t look back nor spit to the wind
unless black sails are hoisted on the admiral’s own masts
chaste breezes will not kindle sparks
in your pirate’s eyes
unless you get used to
chewing the rain and the tobacco
69
long before that phoenicians carried the alphabet and the glass
when dragons breathed sea monsters appeared
the ghost of a genoese galley slave in rhodes castle
his legs in shackles
the whiplash on his back
and latin songs pour forth
from the ships of antonius
you are
unforeseen unforgettable unbearable and deep
as roguish as a deckhand or the mustache of a sailor
the wind is blowing unconstrained from all sides
your centuries old pirate fate
is tattooed on your arms and on your boundless chests
angel-faced mermaids and slippery dolphins
in green and glittery speckles
so what you understand about this world
is the same what children understand
although time is getting older you are still a child
you are the ancient graveyard of pirates and sailors
you are the graveyard of hayrettin’s songs
with your majestic waves you are the big ocean’s
star studded multitudes of plankton life
skates and sea anemones
you are god and you contain countless other gods in your kingdom
the master skippers who ruled over the currents
some sailing north north-east some westward
there was a captain joy we buried him in the arctic sea
there was an andersen and a captain kidd
skippers salih reis burak reis memi reis
bursting in laughter together like canons in salvo
being tossed around and scattered
we died at a festival of giants
then the fish-garths in kushadasi and surmene
to be old and beautiful to defy memory to forget
all the stars but recognize the north star at one glance
then the italian fishermen with briny beards
then like in hell in tatters bit by bit
to enter a port where the fox spat copper
70
to go ashore feeling like the karakurum desert
and wretchedness of returning like a flood of wine
o my beloved times
the times when we sailed toward the south pole
from the terra del fuega
from the land of fire
“isn’t it a wonder that both the one who doesn’t know the world and the one who knows talk
about it.”
kefevî
1.
I have grown poisonous carnations
in the pots of my alienation
they had a peppery aroma
like a summer evening meal
on a rocky beach by the sea
2.
the mountains are hibernating
at a distance the wind caresses the trees
what passion whirls with the moths
in the dervish light of huge candles
in your eyes the enigmas of stars
in your mouth a jasmine stem
71
what are you musing about
with your rosary’s sparkling beads
as they roll on to the dark earth
3.
I gathered the sunlight
from the reflection of the leaves
I saved it in the lens of my glasses
to light my nights
it smelled like burning cloves
4.
72
suddenly from the electric cables
high voltage current like blood
comes to the city
in my soul the loneliness of water
water’s loneliness
5.
those are the plane trees of rugged lives
smoky and hazy they are found
in the magnificent western horizons
when you look at them at a distance
you can’t make out whether they are clouds or plane trees
as soon as they loom up their mysterious leaves
they vanish behind a sheet of rain
a song in my heart
the same one I sang
the day I was arrested
a song in my heart
the same one I sang
the day I was arrested
a song in my heart
the same one I sang
the day I was arrested
6.
the seagull swoops down so quickly
its whiteness suspended
in the air
7.
the icy brightness of the cold seas
where only erratic winds roam
and ghost ships whose crews are dead
seen through the icebergs
seem like silent fish
perhaps only the whistling of sails
and the albatrosses there
8.
appearing in the deserted quiet of distant shores
74
with their refined elegance
secretly gloomy
silvery herons
like fine brooches
birds’ hearts are under strain
with worries like humans
they may be feeling the approaching the storm
they may be getting old
they may not be able to fly any more
the sky is forbidden to them
ah if I could see
if I could see the dolphins with their bubbly gaiety
how docile they are
how serene
they are farmers of hope
doggedly roam the dark oceans
night and day
9.
the night is an owl of cloudy feathers
its quills are all grounded glass
75
its gaze is a window
perched on my right shoulder
outspread and huge
BIRDS OF IMAGINATION28
their slender necks reach out to all kinds of daydreams you think
they’re the red velvet holders of purple hubble-bubbles
when they open their wings the clouds change their colors
in their complicated feet they wear cloven slippers of lightning
they’re the birds of imagination elusive turn into dust when touched
to exist in freedom only is their most unforgivable crime.
28
Published in: Talat Sait Halman (ed.) Contemporary Turkish Literature. Fairleigh Dickinson University Press,
1980
76
MEHMET SIRADAGLARI
connectives
77
for some reason fall is the time to think of one’s own death
the covering of the dead body by yellowed leaves
like a photo of a forgotten fight in the magazines
1.
those are the girls
with tired eyelids
and blue pulses
they search an alla turca tune
with languorous fingers in the keys of a piano
their continence has a somber elegance
those are the girls who live
with the memory of an unlived love
they are like ghosts
abducted from a dream
2.
those are the eyes that are wild
and terrible with the redness of fires
with their dark eyelashes
they thicken a bloody love affair
they are not eyes
but sprays of bullets
shot by the barrel of a gun
3.
those are the summers that rise
from the sea with a golden haze
like the songs of love
every day one melody fades away
from our memory
a secret wind scatters
the purple sands of the beach
78
those are the summers that
take the oleanders of abandoned gardens for a stroll
like shimmering candles
gliding in starlight
4.
those are the words that are bitter
crackling like iron whips
in the prison yards
those are the words at times
like a pomegranate tree in bloom
the light of the sea reflected
in a mountain’s horizon like mysterious knives
muallim naci
A SONG IN MY HEART
those are the plane trees of rugged lives smoky and hazy they are found
a song in my heart
their chirping like a bunch of sparks and 'the water lilies smile
a song in my heart
their words dispersed by the winds they are all alone in death
a song in my heart
the weight of loneliness bear& heavily on the rushes because it cannot be stopped
only occasionally like a gilded thread ,-;- (, glisten the whistles of the invisible geese
80
POEM WITH THE SOUND OF "CH" AS IN SELCHUK
(Kochaklama, Eulogy)
29
Avshar – the name of a Turcoman tribe in South Turkey and South Iran
30
Konya, Bayshehir and Sivrihisar – cities in central Anatolia
81
Their muscles are tightly bound to their bones
their voices full of forgiveness
they laugh out biting hard the sun
of tart pears quinces bitter oranges
they make a yogurt so thick even a knife can’t cut
a wild honey resting in their metal buckets
welcome turk!... to your right and to your left water all over
your earth is trembling with a mad abundance
how much lead how much sulfur can you extract
your fingers draw wine if you stretch your hand
from the seeded grapes a vineyard full
a greenish olive oil is shining in many pots
the smell of the cottage cheese is for you to savor
many mountain goats are falling into your fire
drawing delicate crescents with their horns in the night
welcome turk... cloudy a bit dreamy perhaps
all your hopes are raised at once
you gave your name to this land and pledged your existence
TURKEY
31
Sakarya – a river in central Anatolia
82
turkey turkey your mountains are smoky
the land of grapes the land of tobacco
turkey turkey land of the patient suffering
much laughed and much cried people
your abundance foaming like a cloud from the earth
dawns grow up in your colossal mountains
all those rivers flow gurgling furiously
like a song running from the mountains to the seas
you’re my best man and my guide turkey
and your people your people o your people
i should kiss their purplish eyes honest eyes
my asiye is playful hatije’s dress is embroidered
my glorious zeynep you’re the only, one in forty villages
they shot shahan aged twenty at the head of the bridge
come fearless mahmut come sunny bilâl
the horses of my carriage go clop clop clop
here’s the black sea the boats anchored in the harbor
the lion the seas sun of navigation skipper kâmil reis
these people come from you and they go to you turkey
like the wheat scattered in the fields
teatime in emirgȃn
84
in the air a whiff of a hanged man
istanbul jȍntürks are mourning with death chants
85
it can be excused after all it is the riddle of love
I have a sweetheart with twinkling blue eyes
she works at the factory from sunrise until the stars come out
she weaves both her life and the wool cloth
when she gets home her eyes close from tiredness
on our table wine cheese bread grapes
the world is all sunshine people quite happy
I too know how to write a love poem
my heart is full of love when it is drunk
I have a sweetheart with twinkling blue eyes
every night she goes to sleep early like birds
she weaves wool cloth in her dream she weaves her life
KADIR, A.
MY LIFE32
32
Published in: Talat Sait Halman (ed.) Contemporary Turkish Literature. Fairleigh Dickinson University Press,
1980
86
3
87
1938, Ankara
NECATIGIL, BEHÇET
TIME SLIPPING
NEYZI, ALI
88
OLYMPUS COVE
IN CANDLELIGHT
89
We plunge into a dream in the pale candlelight.
Grandmas made their lace in this light,
This light caressed each strand of their white hairs.
Girls opened their eyes in this light,
This light created the mystery of the stars.
The fear of darkness was dispersed by this light,
Babies fell asleep in its glimmer so slight.
A POEM
90
That birth is the instant when the end of life starts;
I came know the space in between filled with the times stolen from death.
I came to know at a young age how to challenge the world all by myself.
Then I came upon the idea that you have to walk with the crowds.
91
And then I came to know that the real walk is to go against the crowds.
92
At the morning hour one day.
Let the ship raise its anchor at once,
Let a beautiful journey start.
Everything is just right: the table, the jug and the glass.
In the light filtering through the branches
Time appears like a magic gazelle,
Silence is falling on the ground leaf by leaf.
93
Everything is just right: a cupboard faraway
Is moaning nonstop like a tormented soul;
It may be remembering something of our adventure…
Dry autumn leaves are strewn in the wind.
OĞUZ TANSEL
I can’t tell whether it was real or it was in a dream. Was it at Mount Ararat, or Mount
Olympus, or Mount Ida? It was a sunny day. Dawn’s myriad colors had covered the forest on the
plain near the peak of the mountain. A big, magnificent plane tree embraced the clouds in the
sky. Between the tree’s spreading branches and leaves which could provide shade for a whole
village, twitterings of the colorful birds made the pine trees and hornbeams quiver and rocked the
mountain to its foundation.
The magic of this scene of dazzling beauty created awesome yet lovingly fertile feelings in my
mind. The dawn was breaking and everything became discernible. At that moment the plashings
of water caressed my ears and poured into my being. I was almost awakened. At the foot of the
plane tree first three, then seven, then forty and then thousands of sources of light appeared.
Waters running around and under the plane tree were flowing in a riot of luminous colors as if
they were vying with the colors of the dawn; they formed a crimson lake. Blooming colored
rings from the springs were dazzlingly beautiful; a dynamic force had transformed the plane tree
into a world of dancing fairies in a circle of fire.
The water in this luminescent small lake was changing every minute. There were innumerable
shades of reds, blues and oranges from the lightest to the darkest. According to the mountain
villagers’ lore the fountain of life resided in one of these springs, but since its place and colors
changed all the time it was impossible to find its exact location. Those who had spent a lifetime
34
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
94
to find the fountain of life were not rewarded. For, the Queen of the Pigeons had not told anyone
in which month of the year and in which hour of the day this water could be found and imbibed.
I stood in the midst of a huge crowd of people. All eyes converged on the forty pigeons taking
off and swaying in the sky like clouds. Swooping down, they turned around the big plane tree
seven times. Flutterings of their wings made the forest quiver. The pigeons alighted on the shore
of the lake. They took their places, they shook themselves and became forty dazzlingly beautiful
maidens and dove into the water of a thousand colors. The last and most beautiful one was their
queen. As they were making the waters bubble and bloom, the shepherd who was looking for his
lost love arrived.
For a second I rested my eyes on the resplendent peaks of the mountain. White pigeons came
out of the water and dispersed like a frightened bevy of birds. In groups of threes and fives they
alighted on the bright peaks of the mountain. The mountain that was covered with thousands of
colored lights dissolved, became smaller and smaller, and turned into a lake covered with water
lilies.
MARKET PLACE35
35
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
95
God gives fortune to some people and sorrow to others.
THE QUAIL36
96
To perish without even getting used to swimming!
The dark ravine and the perennial knot –
Better to be cremated than turning into earth.
NOMAD GIRL38
97
Oh Mother! there is no end to troubles,
I fear the outlaw could show up on the road.
POPLAR TREE39
39
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
98
WILLOW TREE40
OLEASTER TREE41
40
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
41
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
99
Your leaves are embellished with songs of longing,
Your branches converse with the stars,
Your roots are deeply buried in mysterious dreams.
Why don’t you talk with us?
With your lively and mighty presence,
You make me think of someone all the time.
Oleaster tree, do you have feelings of premonition?
Do you know how to live freely?
100
AWAKENING42
The earth is overflowing with maternal feelings
The joy of living leaf by leaf
The birds, the buds are awakening
In the midst of fragrance of almond flowers
THE VILLAGE43
42
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
43
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
101
The stairs did not creak
He took a walk in the garden
He found himself by the beehives
Inside they were like cafes with music
He was amazed at this set-up
The leaves of the almond tree smiled
A rooster crowed shaking the night
It was the work-call of the village
To wake people up house by house
Was just the job needed
He appeared in front of a house
He glided in – the place
Was in a sleep of death
All the rooms were locked up
This house and the whole village were alike
Only the dogs were awake
Villages were like the houses of the dead
THE MEADOW44
II
44
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012) with the title "The
Highland"
102
The years of his youth reappeared
The terebinth tree he saw in Gőktepe
With branches piled upon each other
Topçiçek flowers were the lake’s necklace
In the evening their colors kept changing
He picked a large red one
To offer to his beloved
A thyme-perfumed moon saturated the mountains
The milk sky changed into deep blue
The stars crowned the Geyik mountain
Nomads came down to wash in the lake
He visited all the camps and the tents
The legends about the lake were puzzling
People of the meadows were distraught
Let’s send our warmest greetings to Karacaoǧlan
THE CITY45
III
103
He found himself in a big city
With the passion of a soldier returned from war
He kissed the lips of his beloved
Things got messed up again
His outer shape had followed him
He looked for a job to get by
The fight to earn a living began
He listened to inane speeches
He petitioned on every occasion
Everywhere he got a pat on his back
Because he was a hero now
PIGEONS46
46
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
47
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
104
With all the fire in our hearts
To become like glowing embers
To love mankind and the world with passion
To create once more and to find love again
Our forgotten rule
Here’s the earth – here’s humanity
Let’s talk about them
KINDAM
- Dazzling Beauty –
KINDAM - I
Dazzling Beauty – I48
48
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012). Also published in Oğuz
Tansel, At the Dawn of Oleander Blossoms; Poems on Antalya Environs (Antalya: Research Institute of
Mediterranean Civilizations, 2011).
105
In the month of July we walked from the Dipsizgől49 enthralled
Accompanied by Dazzling Beauty.
KINDAM IX
Dazzling Beauty – IX50
KINDAM X
Dazzling Beauty – X (Full Gallop)51
106
The main issue is the struggle for selfhood.
My slumbers are smeared with a bilious poison,
Ambivalence grows deeper and wider.
Fear devours one’s confidence,
A star lights up, then it is extinguished.
KINDAM XI
Dazzling Beauty - XI52
107
My meadow-flower with carnation tresses,
Let’s share this deadly loneliness.
KINDAM XII
Dazzling Beauty – XII53
53
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012). Also published in Oğuz
Tansel, At the Dawn of Oleander Blossoms; Poems on Antalya Environs (Antalya: Research Institute of
Mediterranean Civilizations, 2011).
108
UNIVERSE OF DAZZLING BEAUTY54
BLUE SKY55
In a forest at midday
My hands are swimming towards the sun.
I abandon myself to a cloudlike flower,
At the point where weight becomes nil.
The fire in the veins becomes like threads and wires,
54
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012). Also published in Oğuz
Tansel, At the Dawn of Oleander Blossoms; Poems on Antalya Environs (Antalya: Research Institute of
Mediterranean Civilizations, 2011).
55
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
109
The lids of almond eyes are hennaed,
The meaningful, earth piercing, spearlike gaze,
Burns my hand in the black mulberry-tinted thicket.
The boat is tied by an invisible rope,
True love triumphs over death.
DIFFICULT LONGING56
They say sleep is the minor death,
You can have the sweetest!
Years can be multiplied,
A fountain with poison sweeter than honey.
110
In the spring every place throbs with life.
DERVISH MUSA57
I.
II.
111
Keep the hands clean, guard the language, resist the temptations of the flesh.
III.
IV.
112
You bragged about your bloody rivers.
Nature is seething with disgust.
You brought on avalanches
With your hundred thousand.
NO TO WAR59
59
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012). Also published in ÇN -
Çeviri Edebiyatı, September 2007, Volume 1, No. 4.
113
People shut within the walls of torment
Cannot think of freedom with empty stomachs.
Pigeons’ wings in their eyes,
Spread out their dreamy antennas;
They start being aware of themselves.
One day the roads become illuminated,
Suddenly the black walls come tumbling down;
Every living creature takes its place.
When the toiling hands desire,
When the hearts are filled with love
Peace becomes the writing in the sky.
The whole world should be at peace,
Friendly both at birth and at death.
The noble rule of our lives:
Peace, Love Peace, Love Peace…
60
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
114
RESPECT FOR REASON61
GOSSIP62
61
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62
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115
Their heads with the branches,
Their feet with the roads.
Two women are chatting;
This is a lived memory,
A song chanted for waters,
Two women arm in arm.
THE POOL63
To Asturias
I.
In the beginning the world was dark, covered with tar-like clouds.
The sun created colored birds of unique brilliance
Everything their beaks touched became shiny.
The universe was teeming with an active, lively spirit.
The sun rose to embrace the dark-haired Water Nymph.
Time moved in infinity, the world evolved,
Love gave birth to plants, trees, birds and all the living.
Queen of the Eternal Land, Dazzling Beauty,
Loving, warm, dark-skinned, star-haired, with brown eyes.
63
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
64
Published in Oğuz Tansel, Masal Dünyası - World of Tales (Ankara: Elips Kitap, 2012)
116
II.
III.
Blue pigeons with loving wings ducked down in the mountain lake
We sang our song of the universe together with birds and monkeys
Delight was ours, coral-eyed rivers were thinly veiled.
Our first belief was unity: order was laid down in clan meetings
Love buds of the bridal houses illuminated them.
Queen of the Eternal Land, Dazzling Beauty,
Loving, warm, dark-skinned, star-haired, with brown eyes.
IV.
V.
VI.
The outsider chased the insider out!
All those native people whose quest was the Eternal Land.
Africans who were snatched from their continent
Died working in the mines without food or water
The colonizers’ robbing, massacres and “civilizing mission”
Continued this shameful, parasitic, decadent state
And turned into a giant monster in sheep’s clothing,
In Korea, in Vietnam, selling fake freedoms.
But in the space age those oppressed by parasites will free themselves
Suns of Freedom are born from the oceans of people.
Queen of the Eternal Land, Dazzling Beauty,
Loving, warm, dark-skinned, star-haired, with brown eyes.
BLUE SEA
In a forest at midday
My hands are swimming towards the sun.
118
I abandon myself to a cloudlike flower,
At the point where weight becomes nil.
The fire in the veins becomes like threads and wires,
The lids of the almond eyes are hennaed,
The meaningful, earth piercing, spearlike gaze,
Burns my hand in the black mulberry-tinted thicket.
The boat is tied by an invisible rope,
True love triumphs over death.
DEAR LIFE
119
TURAN, Omer
mother’s house
this house
I have entered with the rain after so many years
is far from the days of merrymaking and cranky
the memory of colors was erased from the furniture
the kitchen has become the most chilled
for hungering for the doings of the world…
in a black photograph
a white voice
the sad state of the furniture shows
how silk leaves traces
as it fades away
I crossed the corridor with soundless steps
this house is a desolate forest from one end to the other…
everything
must have gone through
the farewell that is called life
I walked out of the door silently…
VELI, ORHAN
120
FOR THOSE WHO ARE NOSTALGIC FOR THE SEA
121
I neither think of my work nor of my poverty
I say let the troubles come to an end.
IN BETWEEN
SOME DAYS
122
TOWARD FREEDOM
Hey!
What are you waiting for? Jump into the sea.
Never mind if someone is waiting for you.
Can’t you see it is freedom everywhere…
Become the sail, the rudder, the fish and the water
Go as far as you can go.
123
I would travel from seas to seas
And one morning I would find myself
All alone in a harbor.
LISTENING TO ISTANBUL
124
The leaves on the trees
Are gently swaying.
And far, faraway
The endless jingling of the water-sellers’ bells,
I am listening to Istanbul, with my eyes closed.
SUDDENLY
Suddenly,
Suddenly,
Everything happened suddenly.
The boy and the girl;
Roads, fields, cats and people…
Love happened suddenly.
Happiness suddenly.
THE MERMAID
126
In a life spent fighting the sea.
Mending, casting and drawing the nets,
Fixing the fishing line, getting the bait, cleaning the boats…
To remind me of the bony fish
Her hands touched mine.
This year,
The cornelian cherry
Gave its first fruit:
There were only three.
Next year it may give five-,
Why worry?
We can wait,
Life is long.
127
And the piercing shrieks of the birds;
My God, this turmoil, this fervor
And the evening’s air fraught
With these desperate flights,
Evening’s dream ripening in water
Like the branches of coral…
MORNING
YAVUZ, HILMI
128
and lullabies are the hardest in the evenings
think of the white cheese when they cry
think of the skim milk when they smile
ZIYALAN, Nihat
THE ECHO
Is it my scream,
When my toenail hit a rock and broke off?
129
After a literary event,
Who said: “You’re the first one
To kiss me after my mom”?
Or the words I couldn’t utter,
“It is the same for me”?
A LITTLE MORE65
To look at this vast azure a little more, To fill our souls with bright skies...
To salute the stars one by one at night.
To be able to kiss the moonlight
Reflected in still waters
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“Biraz Daha”
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And the perfume of the roses,
The laughter of children...
To hear the singing of the nightingale a little more,,
And to laugh a little more
Looking at youngsters in love;
A little more...
To look at your old folks’ gray hair a little more
To receive the rising day
In the open brow of my son…
To drink the spring from the eyes of my daughter...
To feel the hard touch of the earth on one’s feet
A little more...
To feel the caresses of the wind on the face,
And the changing seasons more fully
To feel the heat and the cold...
To watch the smoky mountaintops at a distance
And to recognise in a pure light anew,
The friend and the foe
A little more
But in spite of everything
To love everybody and everything
At once
To love a little more
And then…
The waters will be dark the voices will stop
A grim evening will descend
In the faces of the loved ones
And when the eyes close
Slowly away from this world
I want a little light, light…
A little more,
Light.
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