Everything started again in a harbor
The sea, the memory, and the woman.
Being naked, you were shivering
Your hair had come loose all the way down.
There were no flowers in the pot, no stars,
I didn’t have the money to buy you flowers.
Only the sky was left and a song,
There were patchy clouds in the sky,
You were there, your eyes too;
Besides your eyes were black as could be.
Everything started all over again.
translated by Talat S. Halman
That was a different time
Of all times,
Inside the tiniest earrings
Of white, round beads
She left by my bedside
Were light beams and shadows.
Perhaps Güler’s hours of love
Remained in those worlds. . .
Or maybe they flew away
Descending onto a vacant shore
With suns receding from rooms.
Day breaks, night descends.
Those kisses and caresses
Are now bright white pebbles
Found by children.
translated by Talat S. Halman
Monday I expect a letter from you
Tuesday I pour my distress onto paper
Wednesday your voice resounds in the void
I shall sigh my heart out on Thursday
Friday I am in the theater of memories
Saturday is pregnant to so much
How about Sunday my love
Just wait for Sunday
translated by Talat S. Halman
I woke, this meant a love in the world
–Your voice was like forsaking a rose.
I was black, like paper on all sorts of life
Each day my name was on those seas, could you see
For a millennium I was an M sound in Lower Egypt.
I struck at loves, didn’t anyone notice
For a millennium I unfurled you in my loneliness.
Whenever my name came up in your bright light
. . . . .This meant a love in the world.
In Egypt once upon a time solitude was lovely
It was a brave new sky one could cross with you
When I glanced, it grew like a lily in my memory
Now it’s a shadow that grows tall in my meadows
This is the way I woke which wasn’t really waking
. . . . .This meant a love in the world.
translated by Talat S. Halman
Everything happened all of a sudden.
All of a sudden daylight beat down on the earth;
There was the sky all of a sudden;
All of a sudden steam began to rise from the soil.
There were tendrils all of a sudden, buds all of a sudden.
And there were fruits all of a sudden.
All of a sudden,
All of a sudden,
Girls all of a sudden, boys all of a sudden.
Roads, moors, cats, people. . .
And there was love all of a sudden,
Happiness all of a sudden.
translated by Anil Mericelli
How pleasant, oh dear God, how pleasant
To journey on the blue sea
To cast off from shore
Aimless as thought.
I would set sail to the wind
And wander from sea to sea
To find myself one morning
In some deserted bay.
In a harbor large and clean
A harbor in coral isles
Where in the wake of clouds
A golden summer trails.
The languid scent of oleasters
Would fill me there
And the taste of sorrow
Never find that place.
Sparrows would nest in the flowered
Eaves of my dream castle
The evenings would unravel with colors
The days pass in pomengrate gardens.
translated by Ozcan Yalim, William Fielder, and Dionis Coffin Riggs
We shall love tomorrow
Red poppies will burst open in a mirage
Ending the pigeon’s night solitude
Tomorrow we shall love
Our moonbeams the envy of heaven’s light
And rain a downpour up to the sun
We shall love tomorrow
Hydrangeas will no longer suffer thirst
With the sea and the wind galleons will soar to God
We shall love
tomorrow
translated by the author
4
I painted you on canvas only once
but picture you a thousand times a day.
Amazingly, your image there will last:
canvas has a longer life than I. . .
5
I can’t kiss or make love to your image,
but there in my city you’re flesh and blood,
and your red mouth, the honey I’m denied, your big eyes, really are,
and your surrender like rebel waters, your whiteness I can’t even touch. . .
translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk
I didn’t know I loved clouds
whether I’m under or up above them
whether they look like giants or shaggy white beasts
moonlight the falsest the most languid the most petit-bourgeois
strikes me
I like it
I didn’t know I liked rain
whether it falls like a fine net or splatters against the glass my
heart leaves me tangled up in a net or trapped inside a drop
and takes off for uncharted countries I didn’t know I loved
rain but why did I suddenly discover all these passions sitting
by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
is it because I lit my sixth cigarette
one alone could kill me
is it because I’m half dead from thinking about someone back in Moscow
her hair straw-blond eyelashes blue
the train plunges on through the pitch-black night
I never knew I liked the night pitch-black
sparks fly from the engine
I didn’t know I loved sparks
I didn’t know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty
to find out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return
translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk
Now
One can see trees
From his window.
And it rains during the day
Along the canal.
The moon comes up at night
And there is a Thursday market
In the square.
But he,
Perhaps it is exile, money,
Perhaps a letter,
He thinks of something else.
translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
An 'erm, what I doing with my life?' cabaret.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet and author by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
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Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
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Leonard Durso 