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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=468525" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Things I Didn't Know I Loved</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">it's 1962 March 28th<br>I'm sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train <br>night is falling<br>I never knew I liked<br>night descending like a tired bird on a smoky wet plain <br>I don't like<br>comparing nightfall to a tired bird</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I didn't know I loved the earth<br>can someone who hasn't worked the earth love it <br>I've never worked the earth<br>it must be my only Platonic love</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and here I've loved rivers all this time<br>whether motionless like this they curl skirting the hills<br>European hills crowned with chateaus<br>or whether stretched out flat as far as the eye can see<br>I know you can't wash in the same river even once<br>I know the river will bring new lights you'll never see<br>I know we live slightly longer than a horse but not nearly as long as a crow<br>I know this has troubled people before<br>  and will trouble those after me<br>I know all this has been said a thousand times before <br>  and will be said after me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I didn't know I loved the sky <br>cloudy or clear<br>the blue vault Andrei studied on his back at Borodino<br>in prison I translated both volumes of War and Peace into Turkish <br>I hear voices<br>not from the blue vault but from the yard <br>the guards are beating someone again<br>I didn't know I loved trees<br>bare beeches near Moscow in Peredelkino<br>they come upon me in winter noble and modest <br>beeches are Russian the way poplars are Turkish <br>&quot;the poplars of Izmir<br>losing their leaves. . .<br>they call me The Knife. . .<br>  lover like a young tree. . .<br>I blow stately mansions sky-high&quot;<br>in the Ilgaz woods in 1920 I tied an embroidered linen handkerchief <br>   to a pine bough for luck</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I never knew I loved roads <br>even the asphalt kind<br>Vera's behind the wheel we're driving from Moscow to the Crimea <br>    Koktebele<br>  formerly &quot;Goktep&eacute; ili&quot; in Turkish <br>the two of us inside a closed box<br>the world flows past on both sides distant and mute <br>I was never so close to anyone in my life<br>bandits stopped me on the red road between Bolu and Gered&eacute;<br>   when I was eighteen<br>apart from my life I didn't have anything in the wagon they could take <br>and at eighteen our lives are what we value least<br>I've written this somewhere before<br>wading through a dark muddy street I'm going to the shadow play <br>Ramazan night<br>a paper lantern leading the way<br>maybe nothing like this ever happened<br>maybe I read it somewhere an eight-year-old boy<br>   going to the shadow play<br>Ramazan night in Istanbul holding his grandfather's hand <br> his grandfather has on a fez and is wearing the fur coat<br> with a sable collar over his robe<br> and there's a lantern in the servant's hand<br> and I can't contain myself for joy<br>flowers come to mind for some reason <br>poppies cactuses jonquils<br>in the jonquil garden in Kadikoy Istanbul I kissed Marika <br>fresh almonds on her breath<br>I was seventeen<br>my heart on a swing touched the sky <br>I didn't know I loved flowers<br>friends sent me three red carnations in prison</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I just remembered the stars <br>I love them too<br>whether I'm floored watching them from below <br>or whether I'm flying at their side</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have some questions for the cosmonauts <br>were the stars much bigger<br>did they look like huge jewels on black velvet<br>  or apricots on orange<br>did you feel proud to get closer to the stars<br>I saw color photos of the cosmos in Ogonek magazine now don't <br> be upset comrades but nonfigurative shall we say or abstract <br> well some of them looked just like such paintings which is to <br> say they were terribly figurative and concrete<br>my heart was in my mouth looking at them <br>they are our endless desire to grasp things<br>seeing them I could even think of death and not feel at all sad <br>I never knew I loved the cosmos</div><div style="margin:10px 0">snow flashes in front of my eyes<br>both heavy wet steady snow and the dry whirling kind <br>I didn't know I liked snow</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I never knew I loved the sun<br>even when setting cherry-red as now<br>in Istanbul too it sometimes sets in postcard colors <br>but you aren't about to paint it that way<br>I didn't know I loved the sea<br>  except the Sea of Azov<br>or how much</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I didn't know I loved clouds<br>whether I'm under or up above them<br>whether they look like giants or shaggy white beasts</div><div style="margin:10px 0">moonlight the falsest the most languid the most petit-bourgeois <br>strikes me<br>I like it</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I didn't know I liked rain<br>whether it falls like a fine net or splatters against the glass my <br> heart leaves me tangled up in a net or trapped inside a drop <br> and takes off for uncharted countries I didn't know I loved <br> rain but why did I suddenly discover all these passions sitting <br> by the window on the Prague-Berlin train<br>is it because I lit my sixth cigarette <br>one alone could kill me<br>is it because I'm half dead from thinking about someone back in Moscow<br>her hair straw-blond eyelashes blue</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the train plunges on through the pitch-black night<br>I never knew I liked the night pitch-black<br>sparks fly from the engine<br>I didn't know I loved sparks<br>I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty <br> to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train <br> watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return</div><div style="margin:10px 0">    19 April 1962<br>    Moscow<br>  <br>  <br>Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Nazim+Hikmet">Nazim Hikmet</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=468525" data-title="Things I Didn't Know I Loved de Nazim Hikmet" data-description="it's 1962 March 28th
I'm sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train 
night is falling
I never knew I liked
night descending like a tired bird on a smoky wet plain 
I don't like
comparing nightfall to a tired bird

I didn't know I loved the e..."></div>
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