A man came upon his hat on the street
Who knows whose hat it was
He did all he could to remember
Remembered a woman, white to the end
A woman opened the window all the way
A woman, who knows whose wife she was
He did all he could to remember.
The stars were like a ruckus on the sidewalk
As it has rained a little while ago
He was like a cloud, he remembered
Under the men’s feet
The stars existed as the stars
The man walked, stepping on the stars
Because it had just rained.
translated by Omer Kursat
Turkish poetry
Even Though We Lived Briefly by Cemal Süreya
When I struck the match
Everything was red as was your face
When I struck the match
Because every face is a country
When I lit my cigarette
Because every cigarette is an utterance
When I lit my cigarette
It was the autumn days as a song
A dove, when I die
Layered with small sorrows
A dove, when I die
translated by Omer Kursat
Remembrance by Melih Cevdet Anday
Should a pair of doves take wing
Should a smoldering scent in the pinks be perceptible
It isn’t–is it–something all that memorable
It just suddenly comes to my mind
The day must have been just about to begin
You, like the others, about to arise
You may still well have been sleepless
That night of yours comes to my mind
Like the names of the flowers I love
Like the names of the streets that I love
Just like the names of all those whom I love
Your names come into my mind
So the comfortable bed shames itself perhaps
So a passionate kiss finds my thoughts in a lapse
As the touch of those fingers of yours through the gaps
In that metal grating comes to my mind
How many loves and friendships I have seen
Heroic deeds abounding in the tales of history
What’s most attune to the present though, is the dignity
Of your composure that always strikes my mind
Should a pair of doves take wing
Should a smoldering scent in the pinks be perceptible
It isn’t–is it–something that’s forgettable
Of itself it comes into my mind
translated by Jean Carpenter Efe
With The Joy Of That Moment by Kemal Özer
With the joy of that moment, my love
that moment when our fingers intertwine
and when our breathing blends
like steam quivering in the mouth of a volcano
With the joy of that moment, my love, that moment
when we close our eyes–to let the uproar
from a strained wire, from the depths of a precipice
collect in ourselves
With the joy of that moment, that moment
when blue stars explode behind your eyelids
when a river of fire flows down a slope
later to gush into the sky
With the joy of that moment, my love
with the joy of that wet and burning moment
when we look at one another as if for the first time
and call our names, we must embrace everything, everything
as the first heralds of a fire.
translated by Suat Karantay
People by Orhan Veli Kanik
All the time
But particularly
When I know you don’t love me,
I wish to see you
Like the people I saw
Sitting on my mother’s lap
As a kid. . .
Women by ilhan Berk
They stand there and chat near the breakwater,
Their voices force the birds to take flight, leaves to shed.
Women of who knows which eras.
There are times when the world comes to a standstill
Some day together we had pressed flowers to dry
In a scrapbook.
Women are something like that
Who knows when, where, suddenly,
It turns out we have lived a voice
they had left with us.
Apprentice Wanted by Refik Durbaş
My hands have a gift for art, Master
My language for cursing, my heart for pain
Is death all I get
All I get, Master?
Which way is love, Master
Which way is grief
Is solitude all I get
All I get, Master?
Which way is away, Master
Which way is home
Is longing all I get
All I get, Master?
translated by Şehnaz Tahir-Gürçağlar
Neither Did I See Such Loves Nor Such Partings by Ilhan Berk
Each time I think of you
A gazelle jumps down, drinking
Water among the reeds.
Each evening a green olive
And a piece of sky take me
Boldly to your arms.
Each time I think of you
Roses grow at my fingers,
I give water to horses,
Loving the mountain more.
untitled poem by Cemal Süreya
Whereas a glass of water was enough to wet your hair,
A slice of bread, two olives to fill our stomachs
If I kissed you once, the second felt itself neglected,
If I kissed you twice, the third bent its neck in sadness. . .
translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat
There Is Something Like Alcohol by Orhan Veli Kanik
There is something like alcohol in this air;
It’s making a guy like me feel bad, bad,
Especially if I’m also homesick;
Your lover one place,
You someplace else;
It’s making a person like me feel sad, sad.
There is something like alcohol in this air;
It’s making a guy like me drink, drink.
Leonard Durso 