TÜRKÇE

Yüzümü göğün gece rengine döndüm.
Gönlümü derme çatma gecekondunun
Yontula yontula
Eğrilmiş, büğrülmüş bozuk yoluna…
Düşey iklimleri soluyan göğsümde
Dik açılarla bata çıka dirileşti bir anda hüznüm…
Ve o an parmak uçlarımla sıyırdım siyahı,
Kedere garip
Umuda çalıntı
Yeşile düştüm…
Döktüm de dilimi
İrili ufaklı taşlara
Peltek peltek
Kelimeleri de çalmayı beceremem ki kaldırımlara…
Yok, gediğini üstlenmem hayatın
Suçtan muafım, malum acun eğik…!
Eksikliğime eksiklik kattıkça çoğalır o dakika sahifeler
Zamanla yarışır halde
Koparırım ruhumu
Yırtık pırtık
Bir kızgınlıktan doğan bin öfke ile…
Söküğümü de dikemem.!
O ki bütünlenememem
Kendime…
Ama bölünmüşüm
Bölük pörçük…
Ne yaparsın,
Hecem bozuk…
Sen geceye uyuldururken
Ateş böceklerinin ordugahından
Karanlığı yara yara dayandı ışık…!
Düşüm yine
Pencerem hafif aralık…
Küçük bir köz bıraktı ömrüme,
Aşk’ın sıyrık sıyrık dizlerinden…
İttim canımı
Gayrılıktan gözlerine…
Düştüm, hemen de kalktım
Yarıklardan yanıklardan yürüdüm
Teke tek,
Kendi kendime…
Şem’in yamula yumula erir gövdesine değmeden
Kıyısından berisinden dolana dolana
Öylece uzaktan baka baka…
Kaç kere, bile isteye
Sayenin sınırına eş çizgide

İlgecinden yakaladım bu kez, bırakır mıyım?

Uyandım aşk’a son bir nefes ile
Saat üçü kırk beş geçe.
Sen, uyuldur
Bu şiir ki ödünç verildi göğe
Serçelerin ötüşüyle
Elbet yetişir ömrüne
Sen yeter ki sabaha pencereni aralık bırak!

ENGLISH

I turned my face to the color of night sky.
My heart driven to the bent and meandering path
Chipped away, bit by bit
To a makeshift shantytown…

On my chest breathing vertical climates
My sadness suddenly came alive, sunk in and out of vertical angles…
And at that moment I scraped the black with my fingertips,
Estranged to grief
Stolen of hope
I fell into the green…
I spilled my tongue too,
To stones of all sizes
In pelts,
But I can’t manage to sidewalks…
No, I don’t take on the breaches of life
I’m exempt from crime, as you know, the world is tilted!
As I add to my deficiency, then the pages multiply
Racing against time
I tear my soul out
Torn and ragged
With a thousand angers born of one resentment…
I can’t sew what I teared either!
That is that I cannot be integrated.
Into myself…
But I’m divided
Piece by piece…

What do you do,
My syllables are broken…
While you sleep into the night
From the army camp of the fireflies
The light endured splitting through the darkness…!
I fell again
My window slightly ajar…
He left a little ember in my life,
From love’s scraped knees…
I pushed my life
From the sight into his eyes…
I fell, and I got up immediately
I walked through crevices, burns
One-on-one
By myself…
Without touching the candles skewed melting body
Going around and around its shore
Just staring at it from afar…
How many times, even willingly
On the borderlines of shadows

I caught it by the sting this time, would I let it go?
I woke up with one last breath to love
Forty-five minutes past three o’clock.
You, be asleep
This poem that was lent to the sky
With the singing of sparrows
Surely will catch up with your life
As long as you make sure in the morning

To leave your window ajar!

 

Bunları da Sevebilirsiniz

Source: BrainPickings Vincent Van Gogh recounts this transcendent encounter with nature to his brother: You know the landscape there, superb trees full of majesty and serenity beside green, dreadful, toy-box summer-houses, and every absurdity the lumbering imagination of Hollanders with private incomes can come up with in the way of flower-beds, arbours, verandas. Most of …

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PEN Centres are promotıng the works of İlkyaz wrıters around the world. For the second ıssue we are collaboratıng wıth PEN Germany . In the ‘Writings’ section of our website, we will be introducing three young writers monthly. Each month we will partner with one of over a 100 PEN Centre’s located in different countries …

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Visitors to the 1889 Exposition Universelle in Paris entered the fairgrounds under the shadow of the newly-built Eiffel Tower—a gleaming marvel of wrought iron lattice that stretched almost a thousand feet into the air. Once inside, they could gawk at a massive reconstruction of the Bastille or gasp as Annie Oakley demonstrated her legendary marksmanship …

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