Comparison
sometımes
I recall the best expert poet yahya kemal
of the OTTOMANS
I see him in a window-shop
obesse and unhealthy
and..why I do not know
at the same time
I remember suddenly
The lame poet BYRON
struggling and dying on the GREEK MOUNTAINS
That is not a thing may be to be proud of
But I.in an haste drilled and went out of
my ten years of my imprısonment
and leaving my liver ache aside
my bosom is the same bosom
and my mind is still the same mind
we are alone even when we lie with our beloved
with dear ones side by side
but when we are left all alone and completely lonely
the crowd of the unıverse
with all its people living and unliving
says''I AM HERE''
and to encourage you
taps you on the shoulder
there are sparrows on the telegram wire
poor things ever
they do not know what a telegram is
and unaware of it
you.you.the ones who are doomed to be hanged
by greasy ropes
you you have made our comrades.. our natives
looking but completely blinds
Nazım HİKMET 1947
translation metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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Related quotes
Dying
ı would like to die before you die
do you think that
the one who comes after
will find the one who has gone before
I do not think so
it is better you burn my body
and put the remnant ashes in an urn
placed on a shelf on the fire-place
the urn must be made up of transparent white glass
so that you can see me in it
you see
how self-sacrificing I am
I do not want to be terracotta
I do not want to be a flower
but want to be ash
to live together with you
and after sometime
when you die too
you will come into the urn also
and we will then live there together
with your ashes mixed in my ashes
till the day
when one of our clumsy brides
or an unloyal grandson without care
throw the urn out from there
but we
till then
we will be mixed with each other completely
our molecules will fall beside each other
side by side
in the wasteland to which we will be thrown
we will then dive into the soil together
and one day out
when a wild flower will sprout
from this little piece of soil
in her stem
there will bloom certainly two flowers
ı am certain
I know
one is you
and the other is me
but I..
I do not think of dying yet
my blood is still boılıng and flowing
I will give birth to off-springs yet
life is occupying inside me and overflowing
I will live with you together
more and more
I am not afraid of death also
but I not like the way of our held funeral ceremony
may be it will be changed
till the day we die
ıs there a chance of yours
to be freed and released from the prisons nowadays
some voice from inside me says
''PERHAPS''
1947
Piraye Nazım HİKMET
translation Metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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Communist Lying In Bursa Citadel
your beloved is a communist
who has been in prison
since ten years
lying in bursa citadel
he lıes ther
improsened
but his chains broken apert
he reached
the ultımate post in the world
but lıes in bursa citadel
his roots are in the country soil
bears the burden like sheik bedreddin
he lies in bursa citadel
his heart has not been drilled
and not sticking
and is brave as before as ever
his song has not been finished or exhausted
full of hope
still not losıng the paradise yet
he lies in the prison
that lies in BURSA CITADEL
Nazım HİKMET Translatıon Metin ŞAhin
poem by Metin Sahin
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A Day Like This
it was such a lovely day
like this
sunny and hot
in a day like this
in flower fragrance
bright and glittering
your kisses changed
my bosom
sworn not to kiss
sealed for kisses
itwas such a day like this
filled with bisrd singings
and happy children screamings
your returning
made my bosom a pair with yours
my bosom which was fed up with loneliness
and longing for you
it was such a lovely day
a day boring us with its yellow heat
when
i was in bare feet
walking on the roads
and impatiently waiting for you
it was sucha a lovely day
like this
your sudden death
has made me collapsed
and made me upset
Ferda BAYKAL
Translation Metin SAHIN
poem by Metin Sahin
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Don Quixote
the warrıor of the eternal youth
obeyed his mind throbbing in his heart
and so
one day in JULY
he went for a warfare
to acquire the claims
of the beautiful...the honest and the righteous
in front of him lay the cruel world
with her malicious and stupid giants
riding on his sad but heroine horse ROSINANTE
I know
what is to be longing deeply for this
what is to be brave with a huge unprevented pounding heart
there is no other way
we do it our way
for me and for DON QUIXOTE
than
to fight with the big giant wind-mills
it is a must for us
you are right DON QUIXOTE
your DULCINA is the most beautiful woman of this world
you certainly scream this truth
to the faces of the dealers and the rich merchants
but they will make you upset and pull you down
and punch you heavily and severely
but you
our thirst's invincible warrior
I am sure
you will insist on
burning like a huge flame
in your heavy..iron armour
and when you do so in favour of all
your DULCINA
will forever become
more and more beautiful
Nazım HİKMET 1947
translation metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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Spring
the smoke
which is descending from the mountains
and scattering
is not the winter smoke from now on
look ahead..
in the mist as soft as a child's hand
the grafting cloth of the rose trunks
are wet now in damps
the scars of the pruned trees are healing
in the bare limbs half asleep
but still neither a sprout or a leaflet
the embers have not fallen yet
it rained all night
like singing a victory song in showers
and now still
it is drizzling slightly brave and warm
more and more
and smiling like a brother
but it is still possible
of the south winds to blow again
even it will snow a little
but the SPRING...?
it is more than a herald now
on and on
The SPRING has come
Nazım HİKMET
Translation Metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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The Most Important......
the plane trees
with their paws like a lion; s
live for a thousand years
the chest-nut trees
live for three thusand years
the cypress-trees are upright for five thousand years
even the poplars live for seven hundred years
in greenery and white
how shoprter we live my brethren
how shorter we live
how shorter
this must be an important problem
is adjusted and equal to the
longevity of the lives of the horses yet
even
we are not equally satisfied with
the cworkld as much as them
most of us
bear burdens heavier than the
burdens
which are carried by the labour-horses
Nazım HİKMET
Translatıon metin şahin
poem by Metin Sahin
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The Strangest Creature Of The World
you look lıke a scorpion my friend
you live cowardly ın darkness like a scorpion
you look like a sparrow my friend
you are in the haste of a sparrow
you look like a mussel my friend
like a mussel closed and comfortable
and you are terrible my friend
like the muzzel of a volcano
your number not one
you are not five
but unfortunately there are millions of you
on the world
you look like lamb my friend
when well clad cattle dealer with cloak
raises his baton
you immediately join the herd
and proudly
you run to the slaughter house quickly
that to say word by word
you are the strangest creature of the world
you are stranger than the fish living in the sea
but do not know anything about the sea
and in this world
the tyranny overwhelms the world for the sake of you
and if we are hungry
weary and if the blood is shed sparıngly
and if we are pressed and pounded fiercely to yield our wines
ı do not want to say that
and though ı do not intend this
but it is a reality
most of the faults are yours
behold it
and learn this learn
my dear brethren
Nazım HİKMET
translation Metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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Leisure
İT is two days
since ıhave been reading a book
in the garden
without moving a bit
ı have no energy even to rise my arms
the boy of my neighbour..cemile's tenant's is playing a violin
he first began playing
when ı first came here
two years ago
do.re.mi.fa.sol.la.ti, do
and now chaikovsky
it is two years
in these years
he has accomplished a great work
and I
what have I done since now
my years flowed like a sea without fish
and are flowing still so
why do ı live
I do not know
even a small girl on her garandfaher's shoulders
is looking around
to discover the world she lıves in
my mother's crysanthemıums blooming in the garden
in multi colors
is it enough for me
to live leisurely
to claim
to watch the crysanthemiums blooming
to read a book translated by Omer RIZA
and to listen to the neighbour'S VIOLIN
İF ONLY ı could have been the one
who had grown those crysanthemiums
nowadays
perhaps ı can come to visit you
not to chat and talk
but for only
to look at your face
may be ı can find
what ı am searching in your face
all the faces ı see are unaware and senseless
nowadays
how is your face
is it full of sense
and comforting
Nazım HİKMET Translatıon Metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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THE GLOOMY NEWS (After rhe big earthquake in 1930s)
there is a bird in Erzincan province
no silver no silver on her wings
my beloved gone..never came back again
no hope of her returning from now on
oh high mountains..high mountains..oh..high mountains
taking its bloody head in its hands
in the middle of the white wild snow
the province ERZİ NCAN weeps in tears
if it did not weep who would have weeped like that
the snow falls in abundance, in flakes to the ground
some say it is a brizzard which comes and passes
but ı cannot say that too
the dead
lying..shoulder to shoulder..side by side
cannot talk and chat
cannot burn their fires at night
the dawn brightens, the sun rises...the horizon enlightens
but noone to get water goes
with their heads pressed heavily down..the dead
slept in their unawakable sleeps..may be dream
from its white stone addressing to the night
the military barracks's clock struck the time as two
how quick..how instant ended the living and the life
some in their six months
some with white beards
some in thirteen..may be fourteen
some intended to go for merry voyage
some waiting for a letter in hope
the dead...lying side by side..shoulder to shoulder
in the churn there was butter
but could not be beaten and never
and the white cheeses ready could not be put into bags
the dead gone in longing and in thirst
they were not satisfied and never got satisfaction of the world
they could not wake up and escape
not being a bird could not fly away
the wells opened for them to save
but nobody could afford to descend
the horses of erzincan walk in ampling on
but the dead could not be able to ride on
the dead..lying side by side..shoulder to shoulder on ground
P.S.I had nothing to give in my purse
but ı wrote a poem from my heart not to get it worse
Nazı m Hİ KMET
Translation metin Ş AHIN
poem by Metin Sahin
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The Silent Ship
the souls are in haste impressed with another time and with an other place
even the shore is sooty with the colorful smoke may be on face
in vain trying to explore and examine the other world and the fear from it
when the day has come to weigh anchor from our time more and more
a ship launches to unknown to obscurity from this parting harbour
the past and the future are loaded with the same thoughts
the same sadness..the same hesitation deteriorate them day by day on
what a holy magic is this..though there are so many passengers board one
this ship silently advances like nobody in it on the sea..waving
neither a handkerchief or a hand is waved when that ship is launching
past doomed to day..some worried with this parting
some screaming...some complaining of the ocean
their sadness longs for the shivering of meeting again
the ones behind..left on the quay are so worried with this voyage high
they look at the gloomy horizon for days with dampening eye
each bloody sunset adds a day to the gone passengers' lacking
this never ends..and drags itself to a hope of a new meeting again
while this is he situation with the first impact of sadness of parting
the beloveds and the lovers on the quay wait in vain
they still do not know that the loved ones gone will never return
this is the breeze of a night whose color is not known
it is the last moment of the soul in the body
listen silent bosoms...this is neither the last ship like this launching
nor for a life in agony ending the last mourning
they..who open their hands to sky on soil and on ground
pray for and complain of this reality....and of this miracle voyage
despairing is useless..listen to what the poet kEMAL says for this
''MOST OF THE PASSENGERS WHO HAD GONE
MUST HAVE BEEN EACH HAPPY WITH THE PLACE THEY HAD GONE
THOUGH SO MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED
FROM THEIR JOURNEY RETURN NONE
Yahya Kemal BEYATLI...Ali TURK KESKIN
Translatı on Metin SAHİ N
poem by Metin Sahin
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Aproaching The New...the Unknown
it is not easy to save
or spare the years
itiis a tough business
though
ı have spared and saved so many years
once ı was a baby in a cradle
crying and seeking a refuge
in my mother bosom
then she was in flesh and blood
living beloved
now she is gone and left me alone
fed up with me
resting in her grave
may be a skeleton ı fear and salute
ı have never known father too
thoughmy mother...my father
my sisters and my big brother
always meet
ı n a photocopy
of an ancient..old and faded photograph
my wife put in my sleeping room
my father was a veteran soldier
of our liberatı on war
now ı am grown up
really
becomı ng an old man
a ping pong ball
walking in stalk
sometimes with a walking stick
lost one of my hip
no bosom to cry
with nowhere to shelter
just me and myself
approaching where ı never know
never guess
cause ı have enough of years
when ı remember them each
comes from my heart and eyes
the tears
fearing the new of everything
it is 20 of december
no snow this year
even the season is faking
may be the end we are approaching
for the word
for the universe
or rather for me
never the less
life living worth
some say it is fall
some say it is spring
some say it is the end
but ı have enough of spared years
let the rest be yours
poem by Metin Sahin
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The Death Of A Beloved
there is your dear cdead one there
at home
his or her photograph ıs stuck
somewhere in an esteemed corner
you look at it
without seeing it in sorrows
when they talk about your dead one
your heart hurts and deeply aches
secretly and silently
some tears on youyr eyes
at first
like all the other dead ones
yıur dear dead one
haunts the house at night
this lingers on for months till morning
and now..sometimes
sometime
it appears n unexpected moments
mostly when you feel terribly lonely
there is your dear dead one over there
at first
the empty place it has left
in your bed behind
is exteremely grieving
and then..as time goes by
the mourning ages
with the wearing off sheets
and like
aged..precious wine
it is tasted sometimes
in just one small cup
there is your dead one
in the twilight
lıke all the other dead ones
it is more closer to you
but seen more unclear
unclearly visible
there is yoıur dead one over there
in faCT
it is lying in the grave
itys flesh not wholly decayed yet
its hands and feet moving a bit
ı knelt down and looked at the soil
ı looked at the grass
ı looked at the beetles
ı looked at the flowers blue blooming
you looked like the spring soil my beloved
ı gazed at you admiring
then ı lay down
my back on the ground
ı see the sky above
ı see the limbs of the trees
ı see the flyıng storks
ı see dreams awake my eyes open
you also look like the sky of the season spring
there
ı see you my beloved
at night
ı lit a fire in the wilderness
ı touch the fire
ı touch the water
ı touch the cloth
ı touch the silver
you lok like the fire
lit under the stars
ı touch you
ı am among the human beings
ı like the human beings
ı like the movements
ı like the thoughts
ı lişke my struggles
ı like all the struggles aimed for goodness
and you
you are a human being in the season spring
my beloved
ı still love you
Nazım HİKMET..Translatıon Metin SAHIN
,
poem by Metin Sahin
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Welcome
welcome you..my woman..welcome
you must have been tired
how can I wash your tiny and lovely
feet
I have neither rose water nor a silver basin
you must have been thirsty
i have no sherbet with ice cubes to offer you
you must have been hungry
i cannot lay and prepare you a table white linen clothy
my room is in prison and in penury like my country
welcome you..my woman..welcome to my room
now you have trodden your feet in my room
now..the forty years old concrete floor
has turned all to green moor
you have smiled
the roses bloomed on my windows' iron bars
you have cried
the pearls dropped in my palms
like my bosom wealthy
my room is illuminated with freedom now
welcome you my woman..you are welcome
but now it is parting time
now good-bye my woman..good-bye and bye
you said you would not cry
do not cry my girl
your eye-liner will sting your eye
you are in a cab now
there..you are crossing the city in whose prison i lie
the driver must be as older as me
he must have been watching you from the peering-mirror
he might understand a beautiful weeping woman in tears
may be he has someone lying in prison..
may be he knows me..may be he is one of us released lately
i know
this city..i gaze behind the iron bars
is a spa
is a tomb
and slk factory and a huge plane-tree
and the real citizens
are my citizens now
look how poor..how they are in distress and in penury
but when you looked at their face in tears
it was like a sun striking at their faces
i know you have come to this city once before too
you came and you did not visit me
is it true..my dear..my love
cry for this my dear rose cry
you must weep in tears for that
no do not cry and weep my dear i just said so
god damn me...do not cry
look around
me and the city is left far and far beyond
but in the, illumination of the afternoon
everywhere is within my illumination
nothing can escape from my paLMS
i know..you do not want to leave me too
now..you and me together
together my rose together
are descending to the most beautiful
from the mountains to the sea
the weather is like filtered honey
i went hunting in the afternoon
i have fallen in love with a she-deer
the eyes of deer are black
but mine's are greenish grayer
i was dragged vomiting blood after her
then eden opened her gates to me
you will lie there in the sun with your green eyes
and me..leaning on you
i will watch you
like watching the most wonderous event of the universe
you will strech and surround your arms around my neck
on my neck your weighing and swinging
i will taste the immortality from your crimson mouth
then with her eyes blue
with her curly hair wavering in the wind
with a short night gown just enough to hide the nakedness
that is to say some transparent
and even impolite... attractingly
in our istanbul
the spring season emerges from her bed and is erected suddenly
Nazim HIKMET
Translation Metin SAHIN
poem by Metin Sahin
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A Phantom In The Mediterranean
a phantom is haunting the mediterranean sea
it is the phantom of an italian soldier
his jacket with torn out buttans on his back filthy
his flesh pierced into pieces
and his temples bloody
fearing to fall intoı the space
his voice is echoing
he is screaming in the mediterranean
and he embraces the sun at daylight
then embraces the stars at night
ı know this soul
he was a fugitive soldier when alive
if he had not been shot to death
he would have lived for many many years now
this is the soul ı know
he fled in arduva from the war-front
he ran away in haste
leaving his fire-arm behind
like an animal running away from fire
neither for his ideas
nor for his claims righteous
he ran away only for not bto die
but only to survive
till then he did not know anything about death
he never read hamlet nor a poem fron dante
he had not ever a slight idea about death
about the mystery of it described in the books
when he was being shot to death
suıddeenly a wedding prayer has come tpo his mind
and he began to recite that prayer
when the guns aimed to him fired
he was not fearing from death
he was fearing from being dead
he wanted most
only to li, ve..only to survive
above all..above everything
he only wanted to survive
with women
without women
satisfied..fed up
or hungry
he only wanted to live
like an ordinary tree
ordinary bird
ordinary cloud
ordinary fish
to live like
water in a glass
or oil
like fistful of soıl
he was fearing from being dead
wanting not to be dead
but he wanted only to survive
only to live a life ordinary
on one morning
when a flower was sprotıng and blooming on his stem
he was being shot to death unknowing and unaware
now
it is his phantom
haunting the mediterranean
him..nobody nobody knows and feels
but only ı can feel and see
nazım HİKMET
translatıon Metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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To The Poet Ahmet Arif
poetry..was waving hand lighly and hesitantly
like a dying and farewellişng cesarıus to us
ı thought would not return from where had gone
even a day with blackısh face
, they were your poems abundantly
the accasia tree whose flowers blossomed secretly
look at tyhe buds sproutıng at night frequently
how the exploded in the morning suddenly
they were your warmest dreams for years
you have born in your teeth like aches
by your longings you have worn out the fetters fastened on your feet
nedret gürcan
translatıon metin sahin
poem by Metin Sahin
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the ROAD TO illumination
light
angry with my being
but when i go and leave
and dissapear
it embraces my absence silently
it neither approaches thoroughly
nor leaves and go away completely
i am following a light
i am after a light
sometimes
it flows into me
like an ablutions towel of my mother
like a wet funeral courtyard of a mosgue
and like the water in ablution fountains
you cannot shape it
you cannot make a form of it
you cannot grap it with your hands
you cannot look at it with your bare eyes
sometimes it makes you blind
you cannot taste it with your tongues
when it is near
it suddenly becomes very far and far
when you think it is your comrade to you
it suddenly turns out to be a bit foe
it is the gaze of a beloved
it is the lighting candle of a muezzin in the mosgue
evry beat of pülseis illuminated with light
every being goes towards it
even the eternity too
my bosom also goes towards that light
the sick lie in bed with hope with it
the sun sets down in the horizon with it
every planet in the universe revolves and spins in light
my worries and troubles begin and relieve with it
i am after a light
i am searching
i am in a light
i am following a light
poem by Metin Sahin
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I Am A Poet
Iam a poet
ı was born a poet
ı feel that frommy childhood
why the storks
chatter on the chimneys
and nest there
their young beak black
their eggs catch cold in winter
ı am a poet
but sometimes ı am misunderstood
that upsets me
very
sometimes people scold me
why the hell you look at me
strangely
they say
do ı resemble someone
do you recognise me
ı am just a poet
ı cannot say
ı s ı t my fault
to be born poet
ı wanna write a poem about you
so ı look and try to understand
your attitude
why does this bother you
ı was born so
ı watch a little child
leaving her mother
throwing herself to the water shower
in the pool in spring
then ı ask the child to return to mother
cause she is looking eagerly looking AFTER
does not like a stranger
she does not know what a poet is too
and lives plain and direct
ı am a poet
ı wish
ı were not born so
ı long for a humble and simple life
living may be in poverty
cause understands me nobody
even the closest around me
poem by Metin Sahin
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Every Living Thing Barring Mother Nature
They may be very famous people and leave their footprints in the sands of time
And their legends may live on for centuries and even outlive the poet's rhyme
But their fame won't live on forever though them the masses celebrate
For every living thing barring Mother Nature has on it set a time date.
Every living thing barring Mother Nature will eventually go into decay
And even from history's pages be lost and forgotten one day
Suppose that's what makes all things equal and whether we are buried or burn
Mother Nature is there to receive us and to her bosom we'll return.
All of my best years behind me and I've lived most of my time span
Less than two years short of sixty soon I will be an old man
Every day nearer the last day that is the end for us all
To us then it will not matter if the living our names won't recall.
Every living thing barring Mother Nature must bow to old father time
And though the achievements of some great people may outlive the great poet's rhyme
Their fame has on it a time date it has often been said before
That only herself Mother Nature will live on forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Optimism In Jail
my dear comrades
send me only the books which write sadness
and then end at the end happily
let the aeroplane land on the airport safely
let the doctor emerge smiling from the surgery
let the blind eyes of a blind child open and see immediately
let save the teenager from being shot
let the longing lovers meet
let us arrange a wedding and a feast
let the thirst reach the water
and the bread reach freedom and liberty
my dear comrades
send me only the books writing sadness
but at the end end with happiness
things they write and say
ı hope
will come at the last moment..at the last instant
to realness
Nazı m Hİ kMET Translation metin SAHİ n
poem by Metin Sahin
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Evening In Prison
evening...falls early in prison
in vain..even if you were a dragon
neither youre expertise in struggling
or your having a brave heart like a double edged fork
help
evening filling in you delicately and slowly
sorrounds you and takes you to many longings
evening falls early in prison
fall the iron gate bolt bars of seven
on the seven closing gates suddenly
then the garden outside starts to weep
at the opposite side over there under the wall
there are three stemmed night flowers
and three roted wild violets
the cloud in the sky
on the branch of a tree the apricot
are terribly in love with the same beloved
to be in prison
then begins to put worries on you
how boring is the darkness
someone on the bare cold stones sings the song
THE CURD'S BRIDE
and me..I am taking a stroll under my berth
and I am fancying impossible things to accomplish
absurd..novice and childish
I wssh to be shot and lost
in a fight nakedly
but this fight must be mannishly
be honest in friendship and in being an enemy
but neither happens so
you hear that sound
the bayonets are fixed on the muzzles of the rifles
the night patrolling of the gendarme begins
day by day..on and on
the evening falls earlier in prison
Ahmet ARIF
translation Metin SAHIN
poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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