20th Century Turkish poetry

Exodus by Orhan Veli Kanık

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I

From his window overlooking the roofs
The harbor was in sight
Church bells
Tolled all day long.
From his bed the trains could be heard
From time to time
And at night.
He loved a girl
Who lived in the house across the street.
Be that as it may,
He left this town
And moved to another.

II

Now the poplars are in view
Out of his window
Along the canal.
Daytime it keeps raining
And the moon is up at night.
There’s a market in the square nearby.
As for him, all the time,
Whatever it is–a trip or money or a letter,
He keeps thinking of something.

translated by Talat S. Halman

Living by Orhan Veli Kanık

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I

I know living isn’t an easy thing to do
Or falling in love and singing of your girl
Taking a stroll under the stars at night
Warming up in the sunshine by day
Sneaking out for half a day to take it easy
On top of Istanbul’s loveliest hill
–Countless shades of blue flow in the Bosphorus–
And to forget all in the legions of blue.

II

I know living isn’t an easy thing to do
But look
The bed of a dead man is still warm,
A dead man’s wristwatch is ticking.
Brother, living is no easy affair,
But dying isn’t easy, either.

Leaving the world isn’t easy at all.

translated by Talat S. Halman

For You by Orhan Veli Kanık

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For you, my fellow humans,
Everything is for you,
Nights are for you, days are for you;
Daylight is for you, moonlight is for you;
Leaves in the moonlight,
Wonder and wisdom in the leaves,
Myriad greens in daylight,
Yellow is for you, and pink.
The feel of the skin on the palm,
Its warmth,
Its softness,
The comfort of lying down;
For you are all the greetings
And the masts swaying in the harbor;
Names of the days,
Names of the months,
Fresh paint on rowboats is for you,
Mailmen’s feet,
Potters’ hands,
Sweat on foreheads.
Bullets fired on battlefields;
Graves are for you and tombstones,
Jails and handcuffs and death sentences
Are for you.
Everything is for you.

translated by Talat S. Halman

Link by Mehmet Yardımcı

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they are an unknown universe ever since
the first story of creation, those butterflies

a seed is carried from flower to flower
on early summer days in disguise

a phrygian statue evokes
past glory in the museum where it lies

loved ones may be far or forgotten
but as years go by we remember their eyes

translated by Talat S. Halman

Whole Summer by Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar

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How well the whole summer passed,
nights in a small garden. . .
you white as lilies
and in a furtive thought. . .
as if in the full moon night
the reverie can’t be crossed
becoming a palace
as if in house arrest
How well the whole summer passed,
nights in the small garden. . .

translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat