Archive for the ‘Turkish’ Category

Everything Depends on You by Can Yucel

You are as heavy as the ground pulls you,
As light as your wings flutter..
You are as alive as your heart beats,
As young as your eyes see distance…
You are as good as the people you love,
As bad as the people you hate..
Whatever the colour of your eyebrows and your eyes are,
Your colour is what the one facing you sees..
Don’t think that what you lived is what you gained:
You are as close to the end as you lived; however long you live,
Your life is as long as you love..
You are as happy as you can smile.
Don’t be sad, know that you will smile as much as you cry
Don’t think that everything is over,
You will be loved as much as you love.
The value nature gives you is in the rise of the sun
And you are as human as the value you give to the one facing you.
If you will lie one day;
Let the one you address believe you as much as the trust for you.
The longing for the loved one is in the moon light,
And you are as close to your love as you long for.
Don’t forget, you are as wet as it rains,
As warm as the sun warms you.
You are as alone as you feel alone
And as strong as you feel strong.
You are as beautiful as you feel beautiful..
This is life!
This is living,
You live as much as you remember this
When you forget this, you feel as cold as every breath you take
And you are forgotten as soon as you forget
A flower is as beautiful as it is watered,
Birds are as sweet as they chitter,
A baby is as baby as it cries.
And you know everything as much as you learn, learn this as well,


Living You by Behcet Necatigil

Every time I miss you darling,
I look at the sky;
Because I see your eyes in the blue skies.
Every time I miss you sweetheart,
I look at the sea.
Because I see your miracle at the horizon.
Every time I miss you sweetheart,
I look at the birds.
Because I see your freedom in those wings.
And my love, every time I miss you,
I rebel at your name.
I don’t want to miss you,
I want to live you,
Every time I miss you, I want to look at you
And to see you only in you…

The Poem of Age 35 by Cahit Sitki Taranci

Age 35! That makes half of the way!
We are in the middle of life like Dante.
The vigor of our youth,
-Crying and begging are in vain today,
Ends without caring about your tears.

Did it snow on my temples or what’s this?
God, is this wrinkled face mine?
Or these purple rings beneath my eyes?
Why do you seem as enemies,
The mirrors which I knew as friends for years?

How men change by time!
The man in any picture is not me.
Where are those days, where is that glow and excitement?
This merry man is not me.
My carefreeness is just a lie.

Our first love is something like a dream,
I find strange even its memory now.
Our ways separated one by one,
With the friends we had begun living.
Our loneliness grows gradually.

I’ve seen that sky has also another colour.
I’ve noticed too late that stone is hard.
Water drowns and fire burns!
Each new day brings a new trouble,
And man can discover all these just at this age.

Quince’s yellow, pomagranate’s red; autumn,
Which I adopt a little more each year.
Why are the birds wandering in the sky?
What funeral is this? Who is dead?
After how many gardens is this one that I see as scattered?

Unfortunately death is for everybody.
You’ll fall asleep but you won’t wake up again.
Who knows where, how, when?
You’ll have a single prayer’s glory,
On that throne-like gravestone.

You are my drunkenness… by Nazim Hikmet

I did not sober up, as if I could do that;
I don’t want to anyway.
I have a headache, my knees are full of scars
I am in mud all around
I struggle to walk towards your hesitant light.

I Can’t Tell by Orhan Veli

If I cry, can you hear my voice,
In my lines;
Can you touch,
My tears, with your hands?
I didn’t know that songs were this beautiful,
Whereas words were this insufficient
Before I had this trouble.
There is a place, I know;
It is possible to say everything;
I am pretty close, I can feel;
I can’t tell.

I Want To Die Before You by Nazim Hikmet

I want to die before you.
Do you suppose that
the one who comes later
will find the one who has already gone?
I don’t think so.

You’d better have me burned and
keep me in a jar on the stove in your room.
The jar should be made of glass,
transparent, white glass
so that you can see me in it.

You see my sacrifice:
I gave up being soil,
I gave up being flower,
just to be able to stay by you.
And I’m becoming dust
for living near you.

Later, when you die as well,
you come into my jar.
And we live there together,
your ash within mine,
until an untidy bride
or an unfaithful grandchild
throws us away…

But till then
we will so much mix with eachother that
even in the dump into which we’re thrown,
our motes will fall side to side.

We will sink into the soil together.
And if a wild flower
gets damp from this piece of soil and blossoms one day,
two flowers will certainly bloom on its stem:
One is you
And the other is me.

I don’t think of death yet.
I will give birth to one more child.
Life is overflowing inside me.
I’m still full of beans.
I will live but for a long time, very long time,
but together with you.
In fact death doesn’t frighten me as well.
I just find our funeral ceremony
very unlikable.
But this probably gets better,
until I die.
Do you have a possibility to get out of prison nowadays?
Something inside me says:

Thinking of you by Nazim Hikmet

Thinking of you is pretty, hopeful,
It is like listening to the most beautiful song
From the most beautiful voice on earth…
But hope is not enough for me any more,
I don’t want to listen to songs any more,
I want to sing.

There is one thing I learned from what I lived by Can Yucel

There is one thing I learned from what I lived:
When you live something, you must live it fully
Your lover must be exhausted from your kisses
You must be exhausted from smelling a flower

One can look at the sky for hours
One can look for hours at the sea, at a bird, at a child
Living on this world is being one with it
Growing unbreakable roots into it

When you hug your friend, you must do it with all your power
You must be in a fight with all your muscles, body and passion
And when you lie on the hot sand,
You must rest like a grain of sand, like a leaf, like a stone

One must listen to all the beautiful music
Such that the sounds, the melodies fill inside

One must dive headfirst into this life
Like diving from a rock into an emerald sea

People you don’t know must attract you to distant lands
You must live with the desire to read all the books and to know all the lives
You must exchange nothing with the happiness of drinking a glass of water
But for all the happiness there is, you must be filed with the longing to live

And you must also live grief, with honor, with all your presence
Because grief also maturates one, like happiness
Your blood must be intermixed with the large circulation of life
The never ending, fresh blood of life must circulate in your veins

There is one thing I learned from what I lived:
When you live, you must live big, like being one with the rivers, the sky, and the whole universe
Because what we call lifetime is a gift presented to life
And life is a gift presented to you.

Love Requires Two People by Ataol Behramoglu

Direction of the wind changes

Leaves fade suddenly

The ship loses its way on the sea

looks for a harbor in vain

Laughter of a stranger

has already stolen your lover;

The poison gathered in you

will kill only itself

The only thing experienced alone is death

Love requires two people

Even its a memory did not remain

from lovemaking during nights

The skin I touched thousands times

the poems you can write is thousands year far.

Blue Eyed Giant by Nazim Hikmet

He was a blue-eyed giant,
He loved a miniature woman.
The woman’s dream was of a miniature house
with a garden where honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house.

The giant loved like a giant,
and his hands were used to such big things
that the giant could not
make the building,
could not knock on the door
of the garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
at that house.

He was a blue-eyed giant,
He loved a miniature woman,
a mini miniature woman.
The woman was hungry for comfort
and tired of the giant’s long strides.
And bye bye off she went to the embraces of a rich dwarf
with a garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house.

Now the blue-eyed giant realizes,
a giant isn’t even a graveyard for love:
in the garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house…