20th Century Turkish poetry

Migration I by Orhan Veli Kanık

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From his window
Overlooking house tops
One could see the harbor
And church bells rang
Rang continuously on Sundays;
And at night
He could hear the train whistle
From his bed
At one o’clock;
And he began to love a girl
In the apartment
Across the street.
Despite all this
He left the place
And moved to another town.

translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat

My Tree by Orhan Veli Kanık

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In our neighborhood
If there were other trees
I would not love you so.
But if you knew
How to play hopscotch with me
I would love you much more.

My beautiful tree.
When you die
I hope we’ll have moved
To another neighborhood.

translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat

I Am Listening To Istanbul by Orhan Veli Kanık

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I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
First a breeze is blowing
And leaves swaying
Slowly on the trees;
Far, far away the bells of the
Water carriers ringing,
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.

I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
A bird is passing by,
Birds are passing by, screaming, screaming,
Fish nets being withdrawn in fishing weirs,
A woman’s toe dabbling in water,
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.

I am listening,
The cool Grand Bazaar,
Mahmutpasha twittering
Full of pigeons,
Its vast courtyard,
Sounds of hammering from the docks,
In the summer breeze far, far away the odor of sweat,
I am listening.

I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
The drunkenness of old times
In the wooden seaside villa with its deserted boathouse
The roaring southwestern wind is trapped,
My thoughts are trapped
Listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.

I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
A coquette is passing by on the sidewalk,
Curses, sings, sings, passes;
Something is falling from your hand
To the ground,
It must be a rose.
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.

I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
A bird is flying around your skirt;
I know if your forehead is hot or cold
Or your lips are wet or dry;
Or if a white moon is rising above the pistachio tree
My heart’s fluttering tells me. . .
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.

translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat

My Youth Is All Gone by Orhan Veli Kanık

/ zdunno03 / 1 Comment

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

For Free by Orhan Veli Kanık

/ zdunno03 / 3 Comments

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

The Mermaid by Orhan Veli Kanik

/ zdunno03 / 3 Comments

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