“I have suffered much from being misunderstood. But I would have suffered more if I was understood.”

acts of kindness
are so rare
but rarer still
are those that appreciate them

Above the bird sings
and below the water sings.
Above and below
my soul is opening.

The bird shakes the star
and water rocks the flower.
Above and below
my soul is trembling.

translated by Dennis Maloney

Where was this melancholy in those days?
This crying inside,
Singing of faraway things?
I raised hell
Every day then;
To a dance today, to the movies tomorrow,
If I didn’t like it, to a cafe;
If I didn’t like that either, to the park;
I embellished my lover
In poems,
I took her to picnics,
A book of poems on our laps;
Where, where,
Where was this melancholy in those days?

translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat

We are living for free;
The air is for free, the clouds are for free.
Hills and dales are for free;
Rain and mud are for free;
The outside of cars,
The entrance to movie houses,
The store windows are for free;
It is not the same as bread and cheese,
But salt water is for free;
Freedom will cost you your life,
But slavery is for free;
We are living for free,
For free.

translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat

She must just have left the sea.
Her hair and lips
Smelled of the sea till the morning.
Her rising and falling breast was like the sea.

I knew she was poor–
But you can’t talk of poverty all the time.
Gently, next to my ear
She sang songs of love.

Who knows what she has learned and experienced
In her life fighting the sea.
Patching fish nets, casting fish nets, gathering fish nets.
Making tackles, dropping out baits cleaning boats.
To remind me of spiny fish
Her hands touched my hands.

That night I saw, I saw it in her eyes;
How lovely the sea has risen in the open sea.
Her hair taught me about waves;
I tossed and tossed around dreams.

translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat

I’ve been reading articles by mostly American columnists and the US State Department, as well as other related articles over news agencies and, of course, in the Turkish Press since I do live here, explaining the causes of the Syrian conflict and bemoaning the escalating refugee crisis.  At present there are over 4 million refugees in neighboring countries, though mostly, I might add, in Turkey, Lebanon, and Jordan. One columnist made the comment: ” However, State Department officials believe that the U.S. has a responsibility to help innocent victims of war. Despite concerns, they have said it is likely that the U.S. will admit up to 2,000 more Syrian refugees by the end of the year.”

Of course, since January, 2012 to the end of February, 2015, the U.S. admitted a total of 335 Syrian refugees, which is pretty far from that overly generous pledge to admit 2,000. And as…

there I was
thinking the worst
that could happen happened
and then that other shoe
did you know what
right on you know where

You can make it to anywhere

It is never late for anything, yet

Dear child, forgive me

Brother Ahmet, you forgive me, too

If I look so destitute,

Not because I feel like it,

Not a bit

Oh dear brother Ahmet

Man resembles the place he lives

Resembles its water, its soil

The fish swimming in its sea

The flower pushing its soil

The foggy slope of its mountains and hills

Konya’s white and

Antep’s red plains

He resembles its sky in that his tears are blue

The sea in that his glances are rough

Houses, streets and corners

How much he resembles

And the dooryards

(His heart squeezed with a well curb)

And its sentences

(In a word, a trade over a pocket mirror, maybe)

And resembles someone’s asking for directions one day

His looking upset while asking and asking

A glass-maker’s cutting glass, and a carpenter’s holding a plane

Lighting a cigarette…