BARIŞ

''Nâzım Hikmet vatan hainliğine devam ediyor hâlâ.
Amerikan emperyalizminin yarı sömürgesiyiz, dedi Hikmet.
Nâzım Hikmet vatan hainliğine devam ediyor hâlâ."
Bir Ankara gazetesinde çıktı bunlar, üç sütun üstüne, kapkara haykıran puntolarla,
bir Ankara gazetesinde, fotoğrafı yanında Amiral Vilyamson'un
66 santimetre karede gülüyor, ağzı kulaklarında, Amerikan amirali
Amerika, bütçemize 120 milyon lira hibe etti, 120 milyon lira.
"Amerikan emperyalizminin yarı sömürgesiyiz, dedi Hikmet
Nâzım Hikmet vatan hainliğine devam ediyor hâlâ."

Evet, vatan hainiyim, siz vatanperverseniz, siz yurtseverseniz, ben yurt
hainiyim, ben vatan hainiyim.
Vatan çiftliklerinizse,
kasalarınızın ve çek defterlerinizin içindekilerse vatan,
vatan, şose boylarında gebermekse açlıktan,
vatan, soğukta it gibi titremek ve sıtmadan kıvranmaksa yazın,
fabrikalarınızda al kanımızı içmekse vatan,
vatan tırnaklarıysa ağalarınızın,
vatan, mızraklı ilmühalse, vatan, polis copuysa,
ödeneklerinizse, maaşlarınızsa vatan,
vatan, Amerikan üsleri, Amerikan bombası, Amerikan donanması topuysa,
vatan, kurtulmamaksa kokmuş karanlığımızdan,
ben vatan hainiyim.
Yazın üç sütun üstüne kapkara haykıran puntolarla :
Nâzım Hikmet vatan hainliğine devam ediyor hâlâ.

28 Temmuz 1962

"I mean you must take living so seriously
that even at seventy, for example, you will plant olives -
and not so they'll be left for your children either,
but because even though you fear death you don't believe it,
because living, I mean, weighs heavier."
(from 'On Living')

"To think of roses and gardens inside is bad,
to think of seas and mountains is good.
Read and write without rest,
and I also advise weaving
and making mirrors."
(from 'Some Advice', 1949)

THE STRANGEST CREATURE ON EARTH



You're like a scorpion, my brother,

you live in cowardly darkness

like a scorpion.

You're like a sparrow, my brother,

always in a sparrow's flutter.

You're like a clam, my brother,

closed like a clam, content,

And you're frightening, my brother,

like the mouth of an extinct volcano.



Not one,

not five-

unfortunately, you number millions.

You're like a sheep, my brother:

when the cloaked drover raises his stick,

you quickly join the flock

and run, almost proudly, to the slaughterhouse.

I mean you're strangest creature on earth-

even stranger than the fish

that couldn't see the ocean for the water.

And the oppression in this world

is thanks to you.

And if we're hungry, tired, covered with blood,

and still being crushed like grapes for our wine,

the fault is yours-

I can hardly bring myself to say it,

but most of the fault, my dear brother, is yours.



Nazim Hikmet - 1947

Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)

SEPTEMBER 30th 1945 Thinking of you is beautiful and hopeful, like listening to the best voice in the world sing the loveliest song. But hope is not enough for me: I no longer want to listen, I want to sing the song...

Poems of Nazim Hikmet by Nazim Hikmet, et al Persea Books Inc. Paperback

SE PTEMBER 24th 1945

The most beautiful sea:
hasn't been crossed yet.
The most beautiful child:
hasn't grown up yet.
Our most beautiful days:
we haven't seen yet.
And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you
I haven't said yet...



THE JAPANESE FISHERMAN

The Japanese fisherman slain by a cloud
Was yet but a youth as he sailed in its lee
I heard this song sung by his friends not loud,
As the yellow light went on the Pasific Sea

We fished a fish, who eats it dies,
Who touches my hand, of that he dies.
This, our boat, is a coffin cold
Who steps on board, in boarding dies.

We fished the fish whose eater dies,
Not all at once, but bit by bit,
His flesh goes black, breaks sores and rots
We fished a fish, who eats it dies.

Who touches my hand, of that he dies,
This hand that served me once so well,
Bathed in salt and sound with the sun.

Who touches my hand, of that he dies,
Not all at once, but bit by bit,
His flesh goes black, breaks sores and rots...
Who touches my hand, of that he dies.

Forget me, love with almond eyes,
This our boat, is a coffin cold.
Who steps on board, in boarding dies...
The cloud has passed and told our doom.

Forget me, love with almond eyes,
My rose, you must not kiss my lips,
Death, would wander from me to you,
Forget me, love with almond eyes.

This our boat, is a coffin cold.
Forget me, love with almond eyes
The child that you might have of me,
Would rot within, a rotted egg.

This our boat, is a coffin cold.
The sea we sail is a dead sea.
Oh, mankind, where are you,
where are you?

1956

TODAY IS SUNDAY

Today is Sunday.
Today, for the first time,
they took me out into the sun
and for the first time in my life
I looked at the sky
amazed that it was so far
and so blue
and so wide.
I stood without moving
and then respectfully sat on the black earth,
pressed my back against the wall.
Now, not even a thought of dying,
not a thought of freedom, of my wife.
The earth, the sun and me...
I am happy.

MEHMET ASLAN

DİGER SİTELERİM

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