Yunus Emre on what love does

Now and then like the winds I blow,
Now and then like the roads I go,
Now and then like the floods I flow,
Come, see what love has done to me.

Hold my hand, lift me from this place
Or take me into your embrace. . .
You made me weep, make me rejoice,
Come, see what love has done to me.

translated by Talat S. Halman

Tell Me Again by Nigar Hanım

Am I your only love–in the whole world–now?
Am I really the only object of your love?
If passions rage in your mind,
If love springs eternal in your heart–
Is it all meant for me? Tell me again.

Tell me right now, am I the one who inspires
All your dark thoughts, all your sadness?
Share with me what you feel, what you think.
Come, my love, pour into my heart
Whatever gives you so much pain.
Tell me again.

translated by Talat S. Halman

Love Tomorrow by Talat S. Halman

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

from Rubaiyat by Nazim Hikmet

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

from Things I Didn’t Know I Loved by Nazim Hikmet

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

Migration II by Orhan Veli Kanık

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

Migration I by Orhan Veli Kanık

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

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