İlkyaz’s new works are now live and can be found below and throughout the postings on the English homepage!
As İlkyaz, we work to introduce three young writers every month. We translate these works, which are be made up of a short stories or poems, into English and endeavour to introduce them to readers outside of Turkey. This exchange, we hope, will create new audiences for our writers in the world arena and introduce them to a global network of the world’s literary figures.
In December, we initiated this effort with Norwegian PEN‘s lead. After PEN Germany, PEN Belgium/Flanders continued the very same role for the month of February. For March, PEN French Centre took over the role of promoting our young writers abroad. For the writings of April, we collaborated with PEN South Africa. For May, Scottish PEN took over the role of amplifying our young writers voices within their membership and audience, and PEN Catalan promoted our writers for June to their own members and audience. For July our partnership reached out to Russia, in collaboration with PEN Moscow Centre! August followed with a collaboration with PEN Canada, September with PEN Venezuela, October with Croatian PEN, and November with PEN Wales/Cymru.For our December writings our partner was Danish PEN,for the month of January it was Belarusian PEN.
We apologise that due to the global effect coronavirus outbreak we were unable to find a PEN Centre to collaborate with. We will keep searching however so check back soon for more updates.
If you haven’t yet had a chance to read, you can reach the last issue’s writings here.
Don’t forget to check out our writers under the age of 15, in “15-“, our archive of stories from everyday lives in “Human Portraits”, the collaborative work of young writers and artists at “Literature +” and renown writer’s reading suggestions to young writers!
This month’s recommendations for young writers comes from renown Turkish writer and publisher Ahmet Bozkurt! We will be translating and publishing his recommendations in the next few days so stay tuned!
Devamlı yenilenen blog paylaşımlarımızı, müzik listemizi ve yeni katkıları websitemizin anasayfasından takip edebilirsiniz.
I tell the butterflies about the beauty of tomorrow
I, faced against this order, commit an unforgiven sin
My name now is veiled in secret envelopes
Inscribed on a cold tomb stone
This, is a solemn rain falling
And I’m awash down conscience street
Faced with people I come through my mother
About the author: He was born in 1995 in Gaziantep. In 2014 he got accepted to Gaziantep University Medical Faculty. He is continuing the latest year of his life as an intern doctor. Burak Tuğrut, by working in Seyyar Edebiyat Dergisi between 2017-2019 and for various literary-arts-actuality magazines such as Bilge Hekim, Nefes, and in publishing projects such as 90’lar (2018) and Cemre Kağıda Düştü (2019) is providing a miniscule meaning to everyone without a roof over their heads with poetry.
His debut poetry book:
-Gideceksen Gelme (2016)
“It won’t interest you but perhaps you’d like to have a look.”
Bracing the belittling tone on her voice, I move over to the other side of the couch. My eyes turn to the stains from yesterday; in this very place, when the tea spilled, sliding off of my hands. These yellowish lines remind me of a halo that widens the more it’s wiped. I begin playing a solitary game as he is speaking. I liken a part of the stain to an octopus.
About the author: I was born in Ankara on October 4th 1986. After completing my first, second and high school in Ankara, I graduated from Gazi University Sciences Teachership Department. In 2010 I started working in Sakarya as a teacher. I am still continuing my duty in a state run school. I am married and a mother of one.
My stories have been featured in and many other literary magazines. I still write essays and reviews in “İshak Edebiyat” short story site, which I also manage. I am happy that stories are a part of my life.
Watching our faces reflected on trade house windows
we wore out our beards until sundown
and got worn out by the threads of the windows we were aware of,
On notepads our tables set across our names,
We ate ink and sipped ink
They would say there’s a parade in our stomachs
We never knew about that.