poetry

For Many Years. . . . by Kemal Özer

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Perhaps the street I’ve gone into and come out of
for so many years will no longer look at my face
nor even remember my name. . .
the sky I carry over my head,
the table at which I have my meals, the bed that gives me haven,
the worries I can’t do away with
to all of them I should bid farewell
say good-bye to all of them at the dawn of this day.

And I should bid welcome my darling
with your face, hands, and voice
to all things that sparkle in my blood.

translated by Talat S. Halman

INTELLIGENCE, GIVE ME by Juan Ramon Jimenez

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Intelligence, give me
the exact name of things!
. . . I want my word to be
the thing itself,
created by my soul a second time.
So that those who do not know them
can go to the things through me,
all those who have forgotten them
can go to the things through me,
all those who love them
can go to the things through me. . .
Intelligence, give me
the exact name, and your name
and theirs and mine, for things!

Eyes by Edip Cansever

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It seems nothing can provoke
Our inner silence
No sound no word nothing
The eyes bring out the eyes!

Nothing else but this unites us
A leaf touching another leaf
So close and so docile
The hands bring out the hands!

In our age love is an opposition
Let us unite to cast two single shadows. . .

your voice

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I heard it so clearly last night
it woke me
I turned to the side you sleep on
to touch your face
to stare into your deep dark eyes
but you weren’t there
only the darkness
and your echo
in my ears

Now by Cengiz Bektaş

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I long for my voice that found you

My voice fills the valley with your name
Giving one more dimension
To my heart all wet

On desolate mountaintops
It bounces of right and left
just without you
From tree to tree

I long for my voice that found you

Song Of The Rider by Federico Garcia Lorca

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Cordoba.
Distant and alone.

Black pony, full moon,
and olives inside my saddlebag.
Though I know the roads well,
I will never arrive at Cordoba.

Over the low plains, over the winds,
black pony, red moon.
Death is looking down at me
from the towers of Cordoba.

What a long road this is!
What a brave horse I have!
Death is looking for me
before I get to Cordoba!

Cordoba.
Distant and alone.

Separation by Nazim Hikmet

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separation swings through the air like a steel bar
it keeps smacking me in the face
I’m staggering

I run away it chases me
there’s no escaping it
my knees fail I’m falling

separation isn’t time or distance
it’s the bridge between us
finer than silk thread sharper than a sword

finer than silk thread sharper than a sword
separation is the bridge between us
even when we sit knee to knee

Sunday Evenings by Orhan Veli Kanik

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I don’t look like much today;
When I pay my debts,
Possibly I’ll own a bunch of new suits;
Possibly you still won’t love me.

But, on Sunday evenings,
When I go by your neighborhood,
Dressed to kill,
Do you think I’ll cherish you
As much as I do today?

Because Of You by Nazim Hikmet

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Because of you, each day is a melon slice
smelling sweetly of earth.
Because of you, all fruits reach out to me
as if I were the sun.
Thanks to you, I live on the honey of hope.
You are the reason my heart beats.
Because of you, even my loneliest nights
smile like an Anatolian kilim on your wall.
Should my journey end before I reach my city,
I’ve rested in a rose garden thanks to you.
Because of you I don’t let death enter,
clothed in the softest garments
and knocking on my door with songs
calling me to the greatest peace.

translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk