There is no space wider than that of grief,
there is no universe like that which bleeds.
poetry
Loving You by Nazim Hikmet
Loving you is like eating bread dipped in salt,
like waking feverish at night
and putting my mouth to the water faucet,
like opening a heavy labeled parcel
eagerly, happily, cautiously.
Loving you is like flying over the sea
for the first time, like feeling dusk settle
softly over Istanbul.
Loving you is like saying “I’m alive.”
translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk
LATER by Robert Creeley
If I could get
my hands on
a little bit
of it–neither fish,
flesh, nor fowl. Not
you, Harry. No one’s
mother–or father,
or children. Not
me again. Not
earth, sky, water–
no mind, no time.
No islands in the sun.
Money I don’t want.
No place more
than another–
I’m not here
by myself. But,
if you want to give
me something for Xmas,
I’ll be around.
Guardian Angel by Rolf Jacobsen
I am the bird that flutters against your window in the morning,
and your closest friend, whom you can never know,
blossoms that light up for the blind.
I am the glacier shining over the woods, so pale,
and heavy voices from the cathedral tower.
The thought that suddenly hits you in the middle of the day
and makes you feel so fantastically happy.
I am the one you have loved for many years.
I walk beside you all day and look intently at you
and put my mouth against your heart
though you’re not aware of it.
I am your third arm, and your second
shadow, the white one,
whom you cannot accept,
and who can never forget you.
translated by Robert Bly
The Carpet by Olav H. Hauge
Weave a carpet for us, Bodil,
weave it from dreams and visions,
weave it out of wind,
so that I, like a Bedouin, can
roll it out when I pray,
pull it around me
when I sleep,
and then every morning cry out,
“Table, set yourself!”
Weave it
for a cape in the cold weather,
and a sail
for my boat!
One day I will sit down on the carpet
and sail away on it
to another world.
translated by Robert Bly
A Walk by Rainer Maria Rilke
My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light, even from a distance–
and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it, we already are;
a gesture waves us on, answering our own wave. . .
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.
It Is That Dream by Olav H. Hauge
It’s that dream we carry with us
That something wonderful will happen,
That it has to happen,
That time will open,
That the heart will open,
That doors will open,
That the mountains will open,
That wells will leap up,
That the dream will open,
That one morning we’ll slip in
To a harbor that we’ve never known.
translated by Robert Bly
CHILDISH by Robert Creeley
Great stories matter–
but the one who tells them
hands them on
in turn to another
who also will.
What’s in the world
is water, earth,
and fire, some people,
animals, trees, birds,
etc. I can see
as far as you,
and what I see I tell
as you told me
or have or will.
You’ll see too
as well.
I Want A Country by Cahit Sitki Taranci
i want a country
let the sky be blue, the bough green, the cornfield yellow
let it be a land of birds and flowers
i want a country
let there be no pain in the head, no yearning in the heart
let there be an end to brothers’ quarrels
i want a country
let there be no rich or poor, no you and me
on winter days let everyone have house and home
i want a country
let living be like loving from the heart
if there must be complaint, let it be of death
translated by Bernard Lewis
Fahriye Abla by Ahmet Muhip Dranas
The air filled with a pungent charcoal smell
And the doors closed before sunset;
From that neighborhood as languid as a laudanum
You are the only surviving trace in my memory, you
Who smiled at the vast light in your own dreams.
With your eyes, your teeth, and your white neck
What a sweet neighbor you were, Fahriye abla!
Your house was as small as a neat box;
Its balcony thickly intertwined and the shades
Of ivies at the tiny hours of the sunset
Washed over in a nearby hidden brook.
A green flowerpot stood in your window all year round
And in spring acacias blossomed in your garden
What a charming neighbor you were, Fahriye abla!
Earlier you had long hair, then short and styled;
Light-complexioned, you were as tall as an ear of corn,
Your wrists laden with ample golden bracelets
Tickled the heart of all men
And occasionally your short skirt swayed in the wind.
You sang mostly obscene love songs
What a sexy neighbor you were, Fahriye abla!
Rumors had it that you were in love with that lad
And finally you were married to a man from Erzincan
I don’t know whether you still live with your first husband
Or whether you are in Erzincan of snowy mountaintops.
Let my heart recollect the long-forgotten days
Things that live in memory do not change by time
What a nice neighbor you were, Fahriye abla!
Leonard Durso 