Turkish Poetry etiketine sahip kayıtlar gösteriliyor. Tüm kayıtları göster
Turkish Poetry etiketine sahip kayıtlar gösteriliyor. Tüm kayıtları göster

27 Nisan 2011 Çarşamba

Hayyam’in Sabahi/Morning of Hayyam

by Cahit Koytak, translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer

Hayyam’in Sabahi

Ah, bu rüya gibi vadi, bu bahçe, bu havuz!
Bu ezgi kulakta, bu şarap damakta,
toy düğün gecesinden kalan!
Bu tan yeri cömertliğinde körpe sine,
Bu alev gibi yakan dudaklar,
ah, bu tatlı baş dönmesi!
Avuçlarımın arasında tuttuğum bu biçimli baş,
Bu benzersiz güzel gözler,
bu güzel, bu derin, bu zeki…
Bunların hepsi, ey Kader, bunların hepsi,
Kıyılarımızı döven bu dağ gibi varlık dalgaları,
bir damla ölümün yanında ne ki?
Anlımıza vurduğun o kuzgunî tuğra yanında,
Gözümüze sokmak için değilse onu,
bu çarşaf çarşaf beyazın hükmü ne, Nakkaş?
Kopan telden çıkan o detone tınlamanın,
O tek vuruşluk hoyrat sesin yanında
bunca neşidenin hükmü ne, Çengî?
O bir yudumcuk zehir zıkkım şarabın yanında
Üzüm şerbetiyle dolu bu billur sürahinin,
bu koca kâinatın hükmü ne, Meyhaneci?
Sorası tutuyor işte, aptal mı aptal aklın!
O sorunca da, kafası karışıyor, keyfi kaçıyor,
ödlek mi ödlek nefsin, bedbin mi bedbin yüreğin!

Morning of Hayyam

Ah, this dream-like valley, this garden, this pool!
This tune in the ear, this wine in the palate,
Left over from a cold wedding night!
This tender chest as generous as daybreak
These blaze-like burning lips,
Ah, this sweet dizziness!
This beautiful head that I hold in my palms
These unique, pleasant eyes,
This pretty, this profound, this intelligent…
All of these, O! Fate, all of these,
These mountain-like waves of existence that stroke our coasts
What is it worth beside one sip of death?
Beside that raven royal stamp that you dashed to our foreheads,
If it’s not for thrusting under our eyes,
What’s the legitimacy of this sheet by sheet white, O! Embroiderer?
Beside that off-tune tinkling that emanates out of a broken string,
Beside that single pulse of the clumsy sound
What’s the authority of these nasheeds, O! Dancer?
Beside that one sip of poisonous wine
What is the worth of a crystal jug, full of grape sharbat
What’s the rule of this universe, Pub-keeper?
So silly mind falls into an enquiry.
When it enquires, it thickens; its joy runs away,
Of that so coward self, of that so pessimist heart!
20 August 2002
Notes: “Royal stamp” refers to the Tughra, the calligraphic seal or signature of an Ottoman sultan.Nasheeds, or anansheeds, are Islamic songs popular throughout the Muslim world, usually unaccompanied.

Qarrtsiluni, Translation
January-April 2011
Cahit Koytak was born in Erzurum on January 29, 1949. He graduated from Istanbul Technical University, Faculty of Chemistry in 1974 as a chemical engineer and worked as an engineer before starting his own business. From 1994-2008, he worked at a private TV channel and he still works as a freelancer. Koytak has translated numerous books from Arabic, English and French into Turkish. His poems have been published in many Turkish literary journals, including in DirilisKelimeYönelisYedi IklimKayitlarGergedanDefterKasgarHeceYansima,Le Poete TravailleKitaplikKirklarMerdiven Siir, and Anlayis. He won the Turkey Writers Union “Translator of the Year” Prize in 1988 for his translation of Peau noire, masques blancs by Franz Fanon.

4 Ekim 2009 Pazar

I’m Listening to Istanbul By Orhan Veli

I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed;
At first some wind is blowing slightly
And leaves are swaying slowly on the trees;
Far out, far away
The unceasing bells of the water carriers;
I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed.

I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed;
Birds are passing by, just then
Clouds of birds, crying in the sky,
And nets are drawn in the kiddles;
Some woman’s feet are touching to the water;
I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed.

I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed;
The Grand Bazaar is fresh and cool,
And Mahmutpaşa is chirping;
Courtyards are full of pigeons,
Hammer sounds are coming from the docks,
And in a beautiful spring wind, the smell of sweat;
I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed.

I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed;
The drunkenness of old kingdoms in my head
A mansion with its dusky boathouses,
Is in a clatter of ceased sou'westers
I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed.
I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed;
Some coquette is passing by the sidewalk;
Swearwords, songs, ballads and innuendos…
Something falls on the ground out of her hand,
It must be a rose;
I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed.

I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed;
Some bird is fluttering in your skirts;
I know your forehead is warm or not;
I know your lips are wet or not;
A white moon is rising beyond the pistachios
I figure it out from your heart’s beating
I’m listening to Istanbul, my eyes are closed.

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer

September ’09 / Istanbul



Orhan Veli Kanık (April 13, 1914 – November 14, 1950) was a Turkish poet. Together with Oktay Rıfat and Melih Cevdet, he founded the Garip Movement. Orhan Veli was born in Istanbul. His father was a conductor of the Presidential Symphony Orchestra. His younger brother, Adnan Veli, was a well known journalist whose memoir of his time in prison on political charges, "Mahpushane Çeşmesi (The Prison Fountain)", was published in 1952. Orhan Veli studied at the Ankara Gazi High School before he started his university education which lasted one year at Istanbul University's philosophy department before dropping out in 1935. He was employed by the Ministry of Education as a translator from 1945 to 1947. Later, he worked as a freelance translator and journalist. In 1949, he helped the publication of Yaprak, a literary magazine. As also evidenced from the contents of some of his deeply humorous poetry, he was a heavy drinker. His death was due to a brain hemorrhage a few days after he fell into a pot hole on the street while intoxicated.

He is known for advocating a poetry without excessive stylistic elements and adjectives, and preferring a style closer to free-verse. He is known for his unique voice, and depth of emotion underlying the seemingly easy-coming nature of his verse. His poetry is highly admired by the public as well as in academic circles.


* Garip (Together with Oktay Rifat and Melih Cevdet, 1941)
* Garip (1945)
* Vazgeçemediğim (1945)
* Destan Gibi (1946)
* Yenisi (1947)
* Karşı (1949)
* Collected Poems (1951, 1975)


25 Ağustos 2009 Salı

Salty Water in My Canteen By İsmet Özel

West Indies, Red Apple, Ithaki, China!
I’ve been sentenced to set forth for a long journey.
I've no more lot in the white man's region
I’ve committed an offence against natives’ land
I’m a dangerous faction among the despots,
an indecorous one among the nationalities.

my atrocity
has isolated me from the flavor of languorous fruits
I’ve chosen a taste of a bitter root
in the world
there is no shade to rest nearby
I’ve been sentenced to set forth for a long journey.

What is the distant?
For me who even lives far from himself
How distant the destination could be?
My head is open, I divided my hair
from the middle
whose country I pass through
tattoos on my temples shall betray me
they’ll call me brave and honored
whereas I’m silent and broken-hearted
the cascade cry that I’ve captured from pirates
is no more useful to me
I disgust the farm laborers’ comfortable
and sedentary dialect.
on my neck
jewels that have been made from the shames of people
who have judged me
on my back the deaf weighbridge of the hidden knowledge
I’ve added salt to the water inside of my canteen, I don’t have provisions
I’ve been sentenced to set forth for a long journey.

I’m abandoning a life, an ordered life
viewers used to say it was looking good on me
the pocket-mirror that I bought from the canteen when I was a soldier
and some nights when I used to go out
the knuckleduster that I’ve worn with a frivolous smile
such my luxuries will also stay here
Its order given by the arbitrators
from this life neither a scent nor an echo nor a paint
I’ve signed the paper that banned me to carry these
Here my job is over, I don’t have any home
I’ve been sentenced to set forth for a long journey.

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer

11 July 2009 Islamabad

Source: Erbain / Kırk Yılın Şiirleri (Erbain - The Poems of 40 Years, 1987).

p.s. You can also read the poem in Spanish translation in the poet’s official web page.
and you can also read it in Dutch translation:
Biography: İsmet Özel (born 19 September 1944 in Kayseri) is a Turkish poet and humanist scholar. Özel is the sixth child of a police officer from Söke. He attended his primary and secondary school in Kastamonu, Çankırı and Ankara. He attended classes at Political Science Faculty of Ankara University, but graduated from the French Language department of Hacettepe University.

Özel published Halkın Dostları magazine with Ataol Behramoğlu. Özel's songs of freedom derived its content from socialism but their structure and symbolism reflected the tastes of the Second New Generation movement in Turkish poetry. In the 1970s, Özel developed a mystic and Islamist view which shocked his leftist audience. He worked as a French lecturer in the State Conservatory. He spent all his time writing after he retired. Because of both his interesting character and works, he took an impressive place among his contemporaries.

Özel, who published his early poems in 1963, became salient with densely using images and his meticulous effort to choose words. He collected his early poems in the book called Geceleyin Bir Koşu (A Run in the Night, 1966), in which he searches the truth of being human. His attributions about gathering the innovations and experimental sides of Turkish Poetry with social realism and his success to realize it caused to his second book called Evet İsyan (Yes, Rebel, 1969) made big echoes.

In 1970, he published Halkın Dostları review with Ataol Behramoğlu. In fact, Ataol Behramoğlu purified his poetry by leaving out crude propaganda and naive didacticism. İsmet Özel, perhaps the most talented of the group, turned to Islam for inspiration, but preserved the revolutionary bravura of his Marxist days. In following years, İsmet Özel experienced great changes in his political and philosophical approaches, and dedicated himself to the Islamic thought.

When asked by his friend Murat Belge, a noted socialist intellectual, the reason for his conversion, Özel replied, "a man looks either after his freedom or his security, but he cannot acquire one without the other. All my life has been a search for ontological security. I am convinced that I found this security in the Qur'an. Islam is a healing for me. Those who either have no wounds or are not aware of their wounds will have no need for this healing." However, Özel is convinced that mankind is sick. In Three Problems: Technology, Civilization and Alienation and in To Speak in Difficult Times and also It Is Prohibited to Eat the Stones, Özel argues that mankind is from an acute alienation which is a result of destructive technology, artificial division of man and nature, and the enlightened principles of Islam which emphasize the synthesis of the sacred and the profane is the only medicine available for this disease. Three Problems is one of the most influential books of recent times in Turkey. Another following twenty years, he claimed that he broke the ties with the Islamic Media. His third work called Cinayetler Kitabı (The Book of Murders, 1975) was a perfect example of his quality in writing poems which it emphasizes the dedication to his early works.

In addition to putting his understanding of poetry, the book called Şiir Okuma Kılavuzu (The Handbook of Reading a Poem, 1980) also points an still being a research field: the contemporary position of Turkish Poetry.

In the book called Celladıma Gülümserken (When I Smile at My Executioner, 1984), the main borders of İsmet Özel’s poetic world clarified, he collected all his poems in the book Erbain / Kırk Yılın Şiirleri (Erbain - The Poems of 40 Years, 1987).

Except newspaper works, starting from 1960, he published his poems and works in Devinim 60, Papirüs, Yeni Dergi, Şiir Sanatı, Halkın Dostları (1964-71), Diriliş, Mavera, Gösteri, etc. The most notable of these is undoubtedly the column he had in newspapers of Yeni Devir (1977-79 and 1981-82), beginning from 1981-82 / 1985 partially in the Millî Gazete, moreover also in the Yeni Şafak newspaper. Both in these works and his first essay book called Üç Mesele' (In Three Problems: Technology, Civilization and Alienation) (1978), he defended that Muslims had to be dependent to the Islamic sources itself. He claimed that this is the most realistic and rightful effort in the conditions that is far and away from Islamic Sources. He won the Writers’ Union Turkey’s Essay Award (1985) and Chilean poet Gabriela Mistral Award (1995) with his book Taşları Yemek Yasak (It Is Prohibited to Eat the Stones). He told his views about intellectual agenda in the television program İsmet Özel'le Başbaşa (Alone with İsmet Özel) which was hosted by İsmail Kara on Channel 7.

Özel has aimed at a new awareness of social responsibilities. In the 1970s, he adopted a mystical view of life without losing the strength of expression and inventiveness which he had evolved during his socialist period. He has drawn upon his knowledge of Western philosophy, Marxist sociology, and radical Islamist political theory to advocate a modern Islamic perspective that does not hesitate to criticize genuine societal ills while simultaneously remaining faithful to the ethical values and spiritual dimensions of religion. Özel, a Marxist convert to Islam: "I did not consider myself a part of the society I was in—but as a candidate for the courageous and uncompromising defense of the cause of the just." He wrote a poem titled, Of not being a Jew, in which he lamented the fact that he felt like a pursued Jew, but had no second country to go to. "Your load is heavy / He's very heavy / Just because he's your brother / Your brothers are your pogroms / When you reach the doorsteps of your friends / Starts your Diaspora," he wrote.

"As a political system in Turkey, socialism is possible, Turkism is probable, Islam is certain."

Source: Wikipedia

27 Temmuz 2009 Pazartesi

I’m Compelled To You By Attila İlhan

I’m Compelled To You

By Attila İlhan

I’m compelled to you, you cannot know
I’m holding your name in my mind like a nail
Your eyes are getting bigger and bigger
I’m compelled to you, you may not know
I’m warming myself up with you.

Trees are getting ready for autumn
Is this city that old Istanbul
Clouds are coming apart in the dark
And street lamps are kindling suddenly
Rain smell on the sidewalks
I’m compelled to you, you are not here

Loving is sometimes dismally apprehensive
And man all of a sudden gets tired in the nightfall
Of living as a captive on the razor’s edge
Sometimes his passion breaks his hands
And he displaces a few lives out of his living
Which door he knocks now and then
Behind him the wicked howl of loneliness.

A pauper gramophone is playing in Fatih
A Friday is playing from the old times
If I stop at the corner and listen carefully
And bring a brand-new sky to you
Weeks are chipping off in my hands
Whatever I do whatever I hold wherever I go
I’m compelled to you, you are not here.

Maybe you are the blue-freckled kid in June
Ah, nobody knows you, nobody
A freighter is running out from your solitary eyes
Maybe you are getting on a plane in Yeşilköy
You’re all wet, your hairs are shivering
Maybe you’re troubled, broken and alarmed
The evil wind is blowing your hair.

Whenever I think about a living
In this board of wolves maybe it’s difficult
Without any shame but without dirtying our hands
Whenever I think about a living
I say ‘hush!’ and begin with your name
Your hidden seas are moving within me
No, it won’t be any other way
I’m compelled to you, you cannot know.

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer

21 July 2009 / Islamabad

Biography: Attilâ İlhan (June 15, 1925 – October 10, 2005) was a Turkish poet, novelist, essayist, journalist and reviewer.

Early life

Attilâ İlhan was born in Menemen in İzmir Province, Turkey. He received most of his primary education in İzmir. However, because of his father's job, he completed his junior high school education in different cities. Aged 16 and enrolled in İzmir Atatürk High School, he got into trouble for sending a poem by Nazım Hikmet, a famous dissident communist Turkish poet, to a girl he was in love with. He was arrested and taken into custody for three weeks. He was also dismissed from school and jailed for two months. After his imprisonment, İlhan was forbidden from attending any schools in Turkey, thus interrupting his education.

Following a favourable court decision in 1941, he received permission to continue his education again and enrolled in Istanbul Işık High School. During the last year of his high school education, his uncle sent one of his poems to CHP Poetry Competition without telling Attilâ. The poem, Cebbaroğlu Mehemmed won the second prize among many poems written by famous poets. He gratuated from high school in 1942 and enrolled in İstanbul University's law school. However, he left midway through his legal education to pursue his own endeavours and published his first poetry book, Duvar (The Wall).

Years in Paris

In his second year at Istanbul University, he went to Paris in order to take part in supporting Nazım Hikmet. His observations of the French and their culture were to influence many of his works.
After returning to Turkey, he repeatedly ran into trouble with the police. Interrogations in Sansaryan Han influenced his works based on death, thriller, etc.

Istanbul–Paris–İzmir triangle

He went back to Paris again in 1951 because of an official investigation about an article in Gerçek newspaper. In this period he learned to speak French and studied Marxist philosophy. In the 1950s Attilâ İlhan spent his days along an İstanbul–Paris–İzmir triangle and during this period he started to become popular in Turkey. After returning to Turkey, he resumed studying law. However, in his last year at law school, he left university and took up a journalistic career. His relationship with the cinema also started in this year. He began writing movie reviews and critiques in Vatan newspaper.
Artistic versatility

After completing his military service in Erzurum in 1957, İlhan returned to İstanbul and concentrated on cinema. He wrote screenplays for nearly 15 movies under the nom de plume Ali Kaptanoğlu. However, cinema didn't meet his expectations and he went back to Paris in 1960. During this period, he analyzed the development of socialism and television. The unexpected death of his father caused him to return to his hometown of İzmir, where he would remain for the next eight years. During this period, he served as the editorial writer and editor-in-chief of the Democratic İzmir newspaper. During the same years, he also wrote poetry books, Yasak Sevişmek and Bıçağın Ucu of the Aynanın İçindekiler series.

Political views

In his later life he appeared on television programs where he discussed literary and social issues. Although he was a devoted communist, he never espoused Stalinism and he always took a nationalistic point of view within communism. He was also an intellectual figure in Turkey where his nationalist ideas influenced the public. In his series of books entitled Hangi …, he questioned the imitative intellectualism which dominated the cultural and political life of Turkey.

Personal life

He married in 1968 and remained so for 15 years.
He was the brother of famous Turkish actress Çolpan İlhan, wife of the late Sadri Alışık, himself a famous actor. Attilâ İlhan died of a heart-attack in İstanbul. Attilâ İlhan was laid to rest at Aşiyan Asri Cemetery.

Source: Wikipedia

20 Temmuz 2009 Pazartesi

Expected By Necip Fazıl Kısakürek


By Necip Fazıl Kısakürek

Neither patient waits for the morning
Nor the grave for the fresh deceased
Nor the devil for a sin,
As I wait for you.

It passed; I don’t want you to come
I’ve found you in your absence
Leave your silhouette in my fantasy
What’s the use of it, don’t come anymore.

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer

11 July 2009 Islamabad



Ne hasta bekler sabahı
Ne taze ölüyü mezar
Ne de şeytan bir günahı
Seni beklediğim kadar

Geçti istemem gelmeni
Yokluğunda buldum seni
Bırak vehmimde gölgeni
Gelme artık neye yarar

Source: Çile (Ordeal)


Necip Fazıl Kısakürek was born on May 26, 1904 in Istanbul. He wrote under various pseudonyms such as Ahmet Necip, Ne-Fe-Ka, Hi-Ab-Kö, Ha-A-Ka, Prof. Ş.Ü., Be-De, Adı Değmez, Neslihan Kısakürek, Ahmet Abdülbaki, and Ozan. Necip Fazıl Kısakürek was the member of a prominent family, and grew up in a crowded mansion. During his frequently interrupted educational life, he attended various schools, and finally, he spent five years at a military school but never graduated. In 1924, he went to Paris, France and studied philosophy for about two years. Upon his return to his homeland, he continued the bohemian lifestyle that he had taken up in Paris. He spent short periods in various governmental jobs but never had a consistent professional career.

After 1923, Necip Fazıl Kısakürek earned himself a place in the literary world through the articles and poems that appeared in various publications and newspapers. His first volume of poetry was published in 1925, and many poems and plays followed. But his first novel appeared in 1970, after a long period of silence. Kısakürek is best known for the poems that he wrote during the first years of the Republic; rendered in syllabic meter, these are aesthetically minded, profoundly metaphysical and psychological pieces. This type of poetry, especially because of the emphasis placed on the aesthetic aspect, represented his quest for a common and pure poetic language, an enthusiasm that he shared with some of his contemporaries. In the hands of Necip Fazıl Kısakürek, the syllabic meter that had until then been struggling within the confines of a formal structure, was elevated to a competent level. In addition, he is unique among his contemporaries because of his pathetic and tragic characters, who manifested themselves through mystical and metaphysical tendencies, unfounded fears, and delirium. Through this innovative approach, Necip Fazıl Kısakürek has had a lasting impact on many poets that followed him.

In addition to poetry, for some time Necip Fazıl Kısakürek was actively involved with drama as well. Sensations such as fear, terror, disgust, mistrust, suspicion, isolation, which appeared as abstract concepts in his poetry, have been carried to the stage through various dramatic techniques and striking dialogues. His dramatic characters are often guilt ridden, and they experience heavy pangs of conscience. His plays often forced the limits of the mind, and took up themes such as the relationship between destiny and will, the relationship between mind, feeling and intuition, and the conflict of the tangible versus the abstract. Due to all this, some critics argued that Kısakürek was influenced by the Nordic tradition of drama. Indeed, most of Kısakürek’s dramatic works are composed with meticulously detailed technique, and they leave little room for interpretation or creativity by the producer or the dramaturge. However, despite these obvious restrictions, the Turkish State Theater has performed almost all of his dramatic pieces repeatedly.

Necip Fazıl Kısakürek led an extremely productive life, and wrote many poems, plays, articles, and essays. In 1980, in an official ceremony, The Turkish Foundation for Literature granted him the “Sultanı Şuara” (“Mastermind”) title.

Necip Fazıl Kısakürek died in Istanbul on May 25, 1983.

Necip Fazıl Kısakürek's Works:

Poetry: Örümcek Ağı (The Cobweb, 1925), Kaldırımlar (Pavements, 1928), Ben ve Ötesi (Me and Beyond, 1932), Çile (Suffering, 1962), Şiirlerim (My Poems, 1969), Esselam (Greetings, 1973).

Play: Tohum (Seed, 1935), Bir Adam Yaratmak (To Create a Man, 1938). Künye (Identification Tag, 1940), Sabırtaşı (The Epitome of Patience, 1940), Para (Money, 1942), Nam-ı Diğer Parmaksız Salih (Well-known Fingerless Salih, 1949), Reis Bey (Reis Bey, 1964), Ahşap Konak (Wooden Mansion, 1964), Siyah Pelerinli Adam (The Man with the Black Cape, 1964), Ulu Hakan Abdülhamid Han (The Great Emperor Abdülhamid Khan, 1965), Yunus Emre (Yunus Emre 1969), Kanlı Sarık (Bloody Sarık, 1970), Mukaddes Emanet (The Holy Trust, 1971), İbrahim Edhem (İbrahim Edhem 1978).

Short Story:
Birkaç Hikâye Birkaç Tahlil (Several Short Stories and Several Analyses, 1933), Ruh Burkuntularından Hikâyeler (Short Stories from Sad Souls, 1965), Hikâyelerim (My Stories, 1973).

Novel: Aynadaki Yalan (The Lie in the Mirror, 1970), Kafa Kağıdı (Identity Card, 1983).

Scenario: Vatan Şairi Namık Kemal (The Motherland Poet Namık Kemal, 1944), Senaryo Romanları (Screenplay Novels, 1972), Battal Gazi (Clumsy Veteran), Yangın Var (Fire!).

Monograph: Eseri ve Tesiriyle Namık Kemal (Namık Kemal, His Work and Its Impact, 1940), Ulu Hakan Abdulhamid Han (The Great Emperor Abdulhamid Han, 1965), Vatan Haini Değil Büyük Vatan dostu Vahidüddin (Vahidüddin, A Great Lover of the Motherland, Not a Traitor, 1968), Benim Gözümde Menderes (Menderes In My Opinion, 1970).

Philosophy-Memoir: Çerçeve (Frame, 1940), Maskenizi Yırtıyorum (I’m Ripping Your Mask, 1953), At’a Senfoni (Symphony to a Horse, 1958), Türkiye’nin Manzarası (State of Turkey, 1968), Binbir Çerçeve I – V (Thousands of Frames I-V, 1968-69), Çepeçevre Anadolu ve Gençlik (All Around Anatolia and Youth, 1969), Çepeçevre Sosyalizm, Komünizm ve İnsanlık (All Around Socialism, Communism and Humanity, 1969), Son Devrin Din Mazlumları (Modest Religious People of The Last Age,1969), Yeniçeri (Janissary, 1970), Tarihimizde Moskof (Russians in Our History, 1973), Cumhuriyet’in 50. Yılında Türkiye’nin Manzarası (The Image of Turkey on the 50th Anniversary of the Republic, 1973), İhtilal (The Revolution, 1976), Rapor 1-13 (Report 1-13, 1976-80).

Religion-Mysticism: Halkadan Pırıltılar (Sparkles from the Ring, 1948), Çöle İnen Nur (The Holy Light Casting on the Desert, 1950), Altın Zincir (Golden Chain, 1959), Altun Halka (Golden Ring, 1960), O ki O Yüzden Varız (That is the Reason of Our Existence, 1961), İlim Beldesinin Kapısı Hz. Ali (Esteemed Ali, The Door to the City of Science, 1964), Hulefa-i Raşidin Menkıbelerine Ait Bir Pırıltı Binbir Işık (The Gleam of Thousands of Lights of the Hulefa-i Raşidin Legends, 1965), Peygamber Halkası (The Prophet Ring, 1968), Tanrı Kulundan Dinlediklerim (The Things I Heard from the Servant of God, 1968), Nur Harmanı (Harvest of Holy Light, 1970), Başbuğ Velilerden 33 (From the Principal Saints 33, 1974), Veliler Ordusunda 33 (Among the Saints 33, 1976), Do�?ru Yolun Sapık Kolları (Perverted Deviations of the True Way, 1978), İman ve İslam Atlası (Atlas of Faith and Islam, 1981), Batı Tefekkürü ve İslam Tasavvufu (Thoughts of the West and Islam Sufism, 1982).

Speech and Conference: Abdülhak Hamid ve Dolayısıyla (Abdülhak Hamid and So, 1937), Müdafaa (Defense, 1946), Her Cephesiyle Komünizma (Communism in All Its Aspects, 1961), Türkiye’de Komünizma ve Köy Enstitüleri (Communism in Turkey and the Village Institutions, 1962), İman ve Aksiyon (Faith and Action, 1964), İki Hitabe (Two Speeches, 1966), Müdafaalarım (My Defenses, 1969), Hitabe (The Speech, 1975), Yolumuz, Halimiz, Çaremiz (Our Way, State and Remedy, 1977).

Memoir: Cinnet Mustatili (Rectangle of Madness, 1955), Büyük Kapı (Great Door, 1965), Hac (Pilgrimage, 1973), Babıâli (The Sublime Porte, 1975

* Biographical information concerning Necip Fazıl Kısakürek has been gathered from Tanzimat’tan Bugüne Edebiyatçılar Ansiklopedisi.

Reference: Yesim Gokce (Bilkent University)/Turkish Cultural Foundation.

11 Temmuz 2009 Cumartesi

Burn with the Equivalent by Cemal Süreya

Burn with the Equivalent

by Cemal Süreya

While walking alongside with the equivalent
To be an individual in the hell street,
And after being gentle-most
To speak with you with primitive words.

Five o’clock ironmongers from the windows
Are showing metallic coins,
And asking about solitude, solitude
Is something like a plain lowland.

I have nothing but the outgoing street
I wish I had loved you for this alone.

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer

03 July 2009 / Islamabad


Eşdeğeriyle Yan

Eşdeğeriyle yanyana yürürken
Cehennem sokağında birey olmak,
Ve en inceldikten sonra
İlkel sözcüklerle konuşmak seninle.

Saat beş nalburları pencerelerden
Madeni paralar gösteriyorlar,
Yalnızlığı soruyorlar, yalnızlık,
Bir ovanın düz oluşu gibi bir şey.

Hiçbir şeyim yok akıp giden sokaktan başka
Keşke yalnız bunun için sevseydim seni.

1 Temmuz 2009 Çarşamba

Two Hearts

Two Hearts

by Cemal Süreya

The shortest way between two hearts:
Stretched to each other and now and then
Reaching to other only by finger tips
Two arms.

I’m running toward the stairs,
Waiting is the body-gathering of the time;
I had come too early I can’t find you,
As if something is being rehearsed.

Birds are gathered and emigrating
I wish I had loved you for this alone.

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer

1 July 2009 / Islamabad



İki kalp arasında en kısa yol:
Birbirine uzanmış ve zaman zaman
Ancak parmak uçlarıyla değebilen
İki kol.

Merdivenlerin oraya koşuyorum,
Beklemek gövde kazanması zamanın;
Çok erken gelmişim seni bulamıyorum,
Bir şeyin provası yapılıyor sanki.

Kuşlar toplanmışlar göçüyorlar
Keşke yalnız bunun için sevseydim seni.

27 Şubat 2009 Cuma

Walnut Tree

Walnut Tree

Nazım Hikmet (1902 - 1963)

Foam by foam, my head is a cloud, my inside outside is a sea
I am a walnut tree in the Gülhane Park,*
Knar by knar, shred by shred an old walnut.
Neither you are aware of this nor the police.

I am a walnut tree in the Gülhane Park.
My leaves are glint by glint like a fish in the water.
My leaves are taintless like a silk hankie,
Tear off, my rose, wipe your eyes' teardrops.
My leaves are my hands, exactly I've one hundred thousand hands.
I touch you with hundred thousand hands, to Istanbul.
My leaves are my eyes, I see with surprise
I watch you with hundred thousand eyes, Istanbul.
My leaves beat, beat like one hundred thousand hearts.

I am a walnut tree in the Gülhane Park.
Neither you are aware of this nor the police.

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer

*An old historical park in the European side of Istanbul


NAZIM HİKMET (1902 - 1963)

Başım köpük köpük bulut, içim dışım deniz,
ben bir ceviz ağacıyım Gülhane Parkı'nda,
budak budak, şerham şerham ihtiyar bir ceviz.
Ne sen bunun farkındasın, ne polis farkında.

Ben bir ceviz ağacıyım Gülhane Parkı'nda.
Yapraklarım suda balık gibi kıvıl kıvıl.
Yapraklarım ipek mendil gibi tiril tiril,
koparıver, gözlerinin, gülüm, yaşını sil.
Yapraklarım ellerimdir, tam yüz bin elim var.
Yüz bin elle dokunurum sana, İstanbul'a.
Yapraklarım gözlerimdir, şaşarak bakarım.
Yüz bin gözle seyrederim seni, İstanbul'u.
Yüz bin yürek gibi çarpar, çarpar yapraklarım.

Ben bir ceviz ağacıyım Gülhane Parkı'nda.
Ne sen bunun farkındasın, ne polis farkında.

20 Şubat 2009 Cuma



Sezai Karakoç (1933 - )

White thread stiff thread and rat-tat-tat
Round ball small ball and rat-tat-tat
Ping-pong table between existence and nothingness
I, my hands are cut between existence and nothingness
….. Cheerio to your kiss and rat-tat-tat
Together to the cinema… yes… and rat-tat-tat
Ping-pong table between existence and nothingness

Ox's eye or calf's tail
Kadifekale or river of Sen
Either Sezai or ping-pong table
Either ping-pong table or empty rifle
A high sign cheerio and rat-tat-tat
How your eyes are beautiful how good
How beautiful how warm
Rat tat tat rat tat tat tat

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer



Beyaz iplik sert iplik ve tak tak
Yuvarlak top küçük top ve tak tak
Ping-pong masası varla yok arası
Ben ellerim kesik varla yok arası
...... Öpüçüğüne eyvallah ve tak tak
Beraber sinemaya ... evet ... ve tak tak
Ping-pong masası varla yok arası

Öküzün gözü veya dananın kuyruğu
Kadifekale veya Sen nehri
Ha Sezai ha ping-pong masası
Ha ping-pong masası ha boş tüfek
Bir el işareti eyvallah ve tak tak
Gözlerin ne kadar güzel ne kadar iyi
Ne kadar güzel ne kadar sıcak
Tak tak tak tak tak tak tak

3 Şubat 2009 Salı



Poem by Mehmet Aycı

A river loving another river don’t panic
A sea on the upbeat for months don’t worry
Inside buds are blowing you’re witnessing of that sound
Thousands of sparrows are playing on the branches of trees
Such you’re experiencing things, beautiful, ephemeral
There is no place for anxiety, life is short anyway...

You know these things too, don’t let the poet speak
As much as I am your guest I’m bonded to you
There is no place for anxiety,
Besides world...

I am also a stranger to you as much as I am close
As much as foreign I am close to you
I don’t complain for life, when you are not here
I say stop to the pain of my left side
Though it doesn’t stop…

So we are growing my dear
Living for today, from the fire
A clover with twenty-nine blades

Translated by Mustafa Burak Sezer


Mehmet Aycı

Bir ırmak bir ırmağı seviyor sakın heyecan yapma
Bir deniz aylar boyunca yükselme halinde endişelenme
İçinde tomurcuklar patlıyor o sese tanıksın
Binlerce serçe oynuyor ağacın dallarında
Gibi şeyler yaşıyorsun, güzel, kısa ömürlü
Endişeye mahal yok, zaten ömür de kısa…

Bilirsin bunları bir de, şairi konuşturma
Konuğun olduğum kadar bağlıyım sana
Endişeye mahal yok;
Zaten dünya…

Sana çok yabancıyım yakın olduğum kadar
Yabancı olduğum kadar yakınım sana
Yakınmıyorum hayattan, olmadığın zaman da
Sol yanımdaki sızıya hele bir dur diyorum
Gerçi durmuyor ama…

İşte böyle büyüyoruz sevgilim,
Yaşamak bugün için, ateşten
Yirmi dokuz yapraklı bir yonca…

Kaynak: Derin, Mehmet Aycı, Ebabil Yayınları, 2008, Sayfa 50-51
Source: Deep, Mehmet Aycı, Ebabil Publishing House, 2008, Page 50-51

26 Kasım 2008 Çarşamba

the idea of being a phantom in Istanbul


a crackpot among old phantoms
your hair is dry and teeth are wet
a weirdo symphony orchestra
sliding the time from its fingernails
you've lived in ages before christ-

and if time is a rattlesnake
being a ghost isn't virtuous anymore-
and blood doesn't' stop on your gashed head
this is a curse / however you bend
you're a spitted out dead
to the aborted womb of the city

now with incoherent matters
gypsies go crazy in the moonlight
irons rust in the dirt of drains
houses tipped out from belongings where their soul stinks
intriguer genies settle inside them
yearning for smoke and sour wine
demons, addicts and cancerous cheap sluts
brothels planted all over the face of rotten cities
how their asses on fire
such the dead are
scared of.


murder is freedom, in the back street
for instance a junkie would be killed by a syringe.
this could be a banker instead of a prostitute
pickpockets, godfathers, traitors,
and bribe taker cops should be added to calculation
death comes suddenly by unexpected corners
from darkest sidewalks of the streets
heard a phantom's paces..


figures for sale in market places
sulky face, vacant look, free anger
to be a ghost is a secret inside all of them.

virgin gravures in byzantium seraglios,
there are marbles who make love with you, i know
their nipples are ice, bellies' are abysm in inferno
atheist temple nuns make confession in the harem
and occidental wish candles imitate to be oriental
only one hope left for them: to be a phantom like you!


it was possible to be a king in year in year one
choking mutinies off, besiege cities and victory
reed semai in mutual parties
hicaz hümayun preluds, kürdili belles...
thus they've passed from the fınger prints of centuries
addict in assorted, varicolored tables
there was sickly drunkenness and vomit too
cherry jams on lips of fresh odalisques
and their slim waists were tight as their legs
thee who didn't fell in with all these magnificence-
only haunted with the idea of being a phantom in istanbul.

october / 2006


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