Poor Tung-p’o is a sick old man
his white hair flutters like snow in the wind
his son mistakenly smiles to see his face so rosy
I laugh how could he know the red is from the wine
translated by Red Pine
Month: November 2023
Epitaph: 1 by Orhan Veli Kanık
He suffered nothing in this world
More than he suffered from corns.
Although he was created ugly
He wasn’t all that hurt.
He never took the Lord’s name in vain
Unless his shoes pinched,
But he’d hardly count as a sinner.
It’s a pity about Süleyman Efendi.
translated by George Messo
Farewell by Gu Cheng
Today
You and I
Are stepping over that venerable threshold
Don’t offer blessings
Don’t say goodbye
To do so would sound like a performance
Better to keep silence
Concealing isn’t necessarily deceptive
Why not leave memories for the future
Just as we leave dreams for the night
Or tears in the sea
And wind in the sails
Translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
Early Spring by Gu Cheng
Morose, the sky hangs back:
Will there be snowflakes? or raindrops?
A muddy river flows fast:
Is it pursuing? or escaping?
Far from here lovers part:
A prologue? or epilogue?
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
oh Gaza: how many times
a father clawing at rubble
looking for his daughter
his son
shouting
salma
then crying
saeed
to the concrete
didn’t I tell you
to look after your sister
the sobs then
the utter despair
of the men
touching his shoulder
oh Gaza
how many times
must a heart break
how many times
on corners long since empty: for Joey, Kevin, & Vic
they met
on corners long since empty
of their memory
names chalked
on concrete pillars
under the el
faded in time
and the rumble
of trains passing
overhead
going toward futures
they never knew
nor dreamed of
lives as brief
as cigarette ash
or the candles
flickering in windows
of the empty houses
of their youth
Poem on the attitude of Erol Güney’s cat to Spring and social unrest by Orhan Veli Kanık
A tomcat and a piece of liver,
It’s all she wants from life.
Great!
translated by George Messo
Poem on the pregnancy of Erol Güney’s cat by Orhan Veli Kanik
Sneak out into the street on a spring day,
And that’s what you get.
So there you stew
In your own thoughts.
translated by George Messo
I’m Orhan Veli by Orhan Veli Kanık
I’m Orhan Veli,
Who wrote the famous line
“It’s a pity about Süleyman Efendi.”
I hear you’re curious
About my private life.
Then let me explain.
First I’m a man, that’s to say
I’m not some kind of circus animal.
I have a nose, ears,
But not all that shapely.
I live at home
And I have a desk job.
I came into this world
With a mother and father.
My head isn’t in the clouds,
And I’m not a paragon of virtue.
I’m not as modest
As the King of England
Nor as aristocratic
As Celal Bey’s stable boy.
I love spinach
And die
For puff pastry.
I don’t give a shit for wealth.
By God, I don’t.
I beat the streets
Without a bodyguard.
Oktay Rifat and Melih Cevdet
Are my best friends.
I have a girlfriend, respectable,
But I can’t tell you her name.
Let the literary historians find her.
I busy myself with pointless things too
But the only “pointless” thing I don’t do
Is busy myself with rotten poets.
Then again
Maybe I have a thousand other habits.
But what’s the point
In listing them all?
They’re all the same.
translated by George Messo
Our Table by Melih Cevdet Anday
Returning from the funeral, roosters crowed.
A terribly empty April afternoon on earth.
The sky appeared to us as small
As a morning glory. We went to a tavern.
Our table was full of cracks.
translated by Sidney Wade & Efe Murad
Leonard Durso 