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... 
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine ... 

DER ALTE MANNS RISSE
Einst hatte ich ein Spiel irgendwo aufgepaßt.
Es gab einen gekräuselten alten Mann in diesem Spiel.
Tragende zackige Kleidung.
Bedeutungslosen flüchtigen Blick in seinen Augen haben.
Zu alt sein, keine Energie habend, die gelassen wird und verlassen ist. Linkes allein, nachdem gelebt habend nichts.

Seine Risse hatten weder gestoppt noch beendet.
Er hatte soviel Mühe, daß gehabt nicht überhaupt beendet.
Die Atmung war sein Profit und lebte war sein nur Ehrgeiz. , die größte Tragödie spielend in der Welt.
Auf dem Lebenstadium ohne Vorhänge.
Er hattest an, du hast einen Anhaltspunkt überschritten?


So viele Menschen sehen Dich
Doch niemand sieht Dich so wie ich
Denn in dem Schatten deines Lichts
Ganz weit dort hinten sitze ich
Ich brauche Dich - Ich brauch dein Licht
Denn aus dem Schatten kann ich nicht
Du siehst mich nicht - du kennst mich nicht
Doch aus der Ferne lieb ich Dich
Ich achte Dich - verehre Dich
Ich hoff auf Dich - begehre Dich
Erfühle Dich - erlebe Dich
begleite Dich - erhebe Dich
Kann nicht mehr leben ohne Dich

Dies ist der Morgen danach
Und meine Seele liegt brach
Dies ist der Morgen danach
Ein neuer Tag beginnt
Und meine Zeit verrint

Dieses alles schreib ich dir
Und mehr noch brächt ich zu Papier
Könnt ich in Worten alles Leiden
Meiner Liebe dir beschreiben
Nicht die Botschaft zu beklagen
Sollen diese Zeilen tragen
Nur - Ich liebe Dich - doch sagen

Heute Nacht erhälst du dies
Ich bete daß du dieses liest
Im Morgengrauen erwart ich Dich
Ich warte auf dein strahlend Licht
Ich träume daß du mich bald siehst
Du morgen in den Schatten kniest
Und mich zu dir ins Lichte ziehst

Dies ist der Morgen danach
Und meine Seele liegt brach
Dies ist der Morgen danach
Ein neuer Tag beginnt
Und meine Zeit verrint ... 

Ich habe dich nie je so geliebt, ma soeur
Als wie ich fortging von dir in jenem Abendrot.
Der Wald schluckte mich, der blaue Wald, ma soeur
Über dem immer schon die bleichen Gestirne im Westen standen.

Ich lachte kein klein wenig, gar nicht, ma soeur
Der ich spielend dunklem Schicksal entgegenging --
Während schon die Gesichter hinter mir
Langsam im Abend des blauen Walds verblaЯten.

Alles war schön an diesem einzigen Abend, ma soeur
Nachher nie wieder und nie zuvor --
Freilich: mir blieben nur mehr die groЯen Vögel
Die abends im dunklen Himmel Hunger haben.

[Translation]

I never loved you more, ma soeur
Than as I walked away from you that evening.
The forest swallowed me, the blue forest, ma soeur
The blue forest and above it pale stars in the west.

I did not laugh, not one little bit, ma soeur
As I playfully walked towards a dark fate --
While the faces behind me
Slowly paled in the evening of the blue forest.

Everything was grand that one night, ma soeur
Never thereafter and never before --
I admit it: I was left with nothing but the big birds
And their hungry cries in the dark evening sky...

Peoples of the world, together
Join to serve the common cause!
So it feeds us all for ever
See to it that it's now yours.

Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!

Black or white or brown or yellow
Leave your old disputes behind.
Once start talking with your fellow
Men, you'll soon be of one mind.

Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!

If we want to make this certain
We'll need you and your support.
It's yourselves you'll be deserting
if you rat your own sort.

Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!

All the gang of those who rule us
Hope our quarrels never stop
Helping them to split and fool us
So they can remain on top.

Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!

Workers of the world, uniting
Thats the way to lose your chains.
Mighty regiments now are fighting
That no tyrrany remains!

Forward, without forgetting
Till the concrete question is hurled
When starving or when eating:
Whose tomorrow is tomorrow?
And whose world is the world?

My love is of a birth as rare
As 'tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by Despair
Upon Impossibility. 

Magnanimous Despair alone
Could show me so divine a thing,
Where feeble Hope could ne'er have flown
But vainly flapped its tinsel wing. 

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended soul is fixed
But Fate does iron wedges drive,
And always crowds itself betwixt. 

For Fate with jealous eye does see
Two perfect loves, nor lets them close:
Their union would her ruin be,
And her tyrranic power depose. 

And therefore her decrees of steel
Us as the distant Poles have placed
(Though Love's whole world on us doth wheel)
Not by themselves to be embraced, 

Unless the giddy heaven fall,
And earth some new convulsion tear;
And, us to join, the world should all
Be cramped into a planisphere. 

As lines (so loves) oblique may well
Themselves in every angle greet:
But ours so truly parallel,
Though infinite, can never meet. 

Therefore the love which us doth bind,
But Fate so enviously debars,
Is the conjunction of the mind,
And opposition of the stars... 

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything...

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine... 


Did I not say to you, "Go not there, for I am your friend; in this 

mirage of annihilation I am the fountain of life?" 
Even though in anger you depart a hundred thousand years 
from me, in the end you will come to me, for I am your goal. 
Did I not say to you, "Be not content with worldly forms, for I 
am the fashioner of the tabernacle of your contentment?" 
Did I not say to you, "I am the sea and you are a single fish; 
go not to dry land, for I am your crystal sea?" 
Did I not say to you, " Go not like birds to the snare; come, for 
I am the power of flight and your wings and feet?" 
Did I not say to you, " They will waylay you and make you 
cold, for I am the fire and warmth and heat of your desire?" 
Did I not say to you, " They will implant in you ugly qualities 
so that you will forget that I am the source of purity to you?" 
Did I not say to you, "Do not say from what direction the ser- 
vant's affairs come into order?" I am the Creator without 
directions. 
If you are the lamp of the heart, know where the road is to the 
house; and if you are godlike of attribute, know that I am your 
Maser...

Share now a pigeon's flight 
Bluebound along the ancient skies, 
Its women forever hair and mammal, 
A Mediterranean town may arise 
If you rip apart a pigeon's heart. 

Time for you to love and to hug 
Time to hold your hand, time for you 
But which hand, my love, which hand;
One has clutched you, pure old peevish, 
One was anointed with an adult aurora, 
One in freedom's endless exodus, 
And one, unvanquished, breaks bread 
With men toiling in mud and dust and smoke.
 
Since is our soul's rapture as of old; 
A clouds, if in motion, is in our ken, 
The minaret if joyful unto God, 
And a man if gallant against misery. 
Whenever we cast a butt in the sea 
In the name of liberty, peace, and love 
It keeps glowing till daybreak...



From Time when the day has come to weigh anchor
Destined for the Unknown a cruiser departs of this harbor

It gathers its way silently as if with no souls who stand
This departure is bereft of waving good-bye or a hand

The quay harbors a desolate cruise for those left
Contemplating the dark horizon, days long, eyes wet

Helpless Souls! This is not the last cruiser to depart
Nor is it the last mourning of a life with us to part

All loving and loved ones on earth will wait in vain
They know not the departed loves will never return

For many departed ones are content with their destiny
For many years have passed by and yet no sole returnee...

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 earth
can someone who hasn't worked the earth love it 
I've never worked the earth
it must be my only Platonic love

and here I've loved rivers all this time
whether motionless like this they curl skirting the hills
European hills crowned with chateaus
or whether stretched out flat as far as the eye can see
I know you can't wash in the same river even once
I know the river will bring new lights you'll never see
I know we live slightly longer than a horse but not nearly as long as a crow
I know this has troubled people before
and will trouble those after me
I know all this has been said a thousand times before 
and will be said after me

I didn't know I loved the sky 
cloudy or clear
the blue vault Andrei studied on his back at Borodino
in prison I translated both volumes of War and Peace into Turkish 
I hear voices
not from the blue vault but from the yard 
the guards are beating someone again
I didn't know I loved trees
bare beeches near Moscow in Peredelkino
they come upon me in winter noble and modest 
beeches are Russian the way poplars are Turkish 
"the poplars of Izmir
losing their leaves. . .
they call me The Knife. . .
lover like a young tree. . .
I blow stately mansions sky-high"
in the Ilgaz woods in 1920 I tied an embroidered linen handkerchief 
to a pine bough for luck

I never knew I loved roads 
even the asphalt kind
Vera's behind the wheel we're driving from Moscow to the Crimea 
Koktebele
formerly "Goktepé ili" in Turkish 
the two of us inside a closed box
the world flows past on both sides distant and mute 
I was never so close to anyone in my life
bandits stopped me on the red road between Bolu and Geredé
when I was eighteen
apart from my life I didn't have anything in the wagon they could take 
and at eighteen our lives are what we value least
I've written this somewhere before
wading through a dark muddy street I'm going to the shadow play 
Ramazan night
a paper lantern leading the way
maybe nothing like this ever happened
maybe I read it somewhere an eight-year-old boy
going to the shadow play
Ramazan night in Istanbul holding his grandfather's hand 
his grandfather has on a fez and is wearing the fur coat
with a sable collar over his robe
and there's a lantern in the servant's hand
and I can't contain myself for joy
flowers come to mind for some reason 
poppies cactuses jonquils
in the jonquil garden in Kadikoy Istanbul I kissed Marika 
fresh almonds on her breath
I was seventeen
my heart on a swing touched the sky 
I didn't know I loved flowers
friends sent me three red carnations in prison

I just remembered the stars 
I love them too
whether I'm floored watching them from below 
or whether I'm flying at their side

I have some questions for the cosmonauts 
were the stars much bigger
did they look like huge jewels on black velvet
or apricots on orange
did you feel proud to get closer to the stars
I saw color photos of the cosmos in Ogonek magazine now don't 
be upset comrades but nonfigurative shall we say or abstract 
well some of them looked just like such paintings which is to 
say they were terribly figurative and concrete
my heart was in my mouth looking at them 
they are our endless desire to grasp things
seeing them I could even think of death and not feel at all sad 
I never knew I loved the cosmos

snow flashes in front of my eyes
both heavy wet steady snow and the dry whirling kind 
I didn't know I liked snow

I never knew I loved the sun
even when setting cherry-red as now
in Istanbul too it sometimes sets in postcard colors 
but you aren't about to paint it that way
I didn't know I loved the sea
except the Sea of Azov
or how much

I didn't know I loved clouds
whether I'm under or up above them
whether they look like giants or shaggy white beasts

moonlight the falsest the most languid the most petit-bourgeois 
strikes me
I like it

I didn't know I liked rain
whether it falls like a fine net or splatters against the glass my 
heart leaves me tangled up in a net or trapped inside a drop 
and takes off for uncharted countries I didn't know I loved 
rain but why did I suddenly discover all these passions sitting 
by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
is it because I lit my sixth cigarette 
one alone could kill me
is it because I'm half dead from thinking about someone back in Moscow
her hair straw-blond eyelashes blue

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night
I never knew I liked the night pitch-black
sparks fly from the engine
I didn't know I loved sparks
I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty 
to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train 
watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return ... 

19 April 1962
Moscow


The hair falling on your forehead

suddenly lifted.
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
The trees are whispering
in the dark.
Your bare arms will be cold.

Far off
where we can't see,
the moon must be rising.
It hasn't reached us yet,
slipping through the leaves
to light up your shoulder.
But I know
a wind comes up with the moon.
The trees are whispering.
Your bare arms will be cold.

From above,
from the branches lost in the dark,
something dropped at your feet.
You moved closer to me.
Under my hand your bare flesh is like the fuzzy skin of a fruit.
Neither a song of the heart nor "common sense"--
before the trees, birds, and insects,
my hand on my wife's flesh
is thinking.
Tonight my hand
can't read or write.
Neither loving nor unloving...
It's the tongue of a leopard at a spring,
a grape leaf,
a wolf's paw.
To move, breathe, eat, drink.
My hand is like a seed
splitting open underground.
Neither a song of the heart nor "common sense,"
neither loving nor unloving.
My hand thinking on my wife's flesh
is the hand of the first man.
Like a root that finds water underground,
it says to me:
"To eat, drink, cold, hot, struggle, smell, color--
not to live in order to die
but to die to live..."

And now
as red female hair blows across my face,
as something stirs on the ground,
as the trees whisper in the dark,
and as the moon rises far off
where we can't see,
my hand on my wife's flesh
before the trees, birds, and insects,
I want the right of life,
of the leopard at the spring, of the seed splitting open--
I want the right of the first man...

The knight of immortal youth
at the age of fifty found his mind in his heart
and on July morning went out to capture
the right, the beautiful, the just.

Facing him a world of silly and arrogant giants,
he on his sad but brave Rocinante.
I know what it means to be longing for something,
but if your heart weighs only a pound and sixteen ounces,
there's no sense, my Don, in fighting these senseless windmills.

But you are right, of course, Dulcinea is your woman,
the most beautiful in the world;
I'm sure you'll shout this fact
at the face of street-traders;
but they'll pull you down from your horse
and beat you up.
But you, the unbeatable knight of our curse,
will continue to glow behind the heavy iron visor
and Dulcinea will become even more beautiful...
Your Eyes Say Stay 

How kinda farewell is this, what kinda goodbye 
your eyes saying stay, your lips saying go 
your look key, your eyes lock 
your hands say open, your lips say go 

Seperation is river with no turn back 
Loneliness is a ruined deserted city 
who knows how many love turned to ash like that 
your tears say stay, your lips go 

If i go, wont turn back 
If i stay, will be beaten to my heart 
I couldnt understand you, will go mad 
your eyes say stay, your lips say go 

our pictures are taken over walls? 
our names become strangers? 
how about our crazy nights? 
memories say stay, your lips say go 

this novel, too, maybe ends soon 
what loves ruined from pride and coyness 
Again melodies cry from the Hejaz 
Songs say stay, your lips say go ... 

-------------------------------------

Gözlerin Kal Diyor 

Bu nasıl ayrılık bu nasıl veda 
Gözlerin kal diyor dudakların git 
Bakışın anahtar gözlerin kilit 
Ellerin aç diyor dudakların git 

Ayrılık dönüşü olmayan nehir 
Yalnızlık yıkılmış bomboş bir şehir 
Kaç sevda kül oldu böyle kimbilir 
Gözyaşın kal diyor dudakların git. 

Gidersem bir daha dönmeyeceğim 
Kalırsam kalbime yenileceğim 
Çözemedim seni delireceğim 
Gözlerin kal diyor dudakların git 

Duvardan insin mi resimlerimiz 
Yabancı olsun mu isimlerimiz 
Ya o deli dolu gecelerimiz 
Anılar kal diyor dudakların git 

Bu romanda biter belki birazdan 
Ne aşklar yıkıldı gururdan nazdan 
Ağlıyor besteler yine hicazdan 
Şarkılar kal diyor dudakların git... 

You in a Photo

Yesterday, I saw your eyes in a photo 
They were like two stars far away, lost in thoughts 
I wish you could know what they told me, in silence 
Your looks that became deeper with love. 

I felt as if you were not there, 
You existed somewhere else, somewhere far away, with me 
I saw love shining in your face 
Like a mirror in the garden of beauties. 

You stepped out of the mirror slowly, timidly 
You threw yourself into my arms like a gazelle 
With fires in your lips filled with longing 

I saw you, and I lived you in a photo 
You were so close to me, closer than ever 
You told me of the happy days that are yet to come...

------------------------------------------------------

Bir Fotoğrafta Sen

Dün bir fotoğrafta gözlerini gördüm 
İki uzak yıldız gibiydiler, dalgın 
Bilsen neler anlattı bana, sessizce 
Bir sevgiyle derinleşen bakışların. 

Orada değildin sanki, bir başka yerde 
Ötelerde, uzakta benimle vardın 
Güzellikler bahçesi ayna gibi 
Yansıdığını gördüm yüzünde aşkın. 

Bir ara çıktın resimden usulca, ürkek 
Bir ceylan gibi kollarıma atıldın 
Özlemli dudaklarınla yangın yangın 

Seni gördüm, yaşadım bir fotoğrafta 
Her zamankinden daha çok bana yakın 
Gelecek o mutlu günleri anlattın... 

Güz Aşkı

Bir gece düşün şimdi sonbahardan 
Yağmurlar daha başlamamış olsun. 
Bir tek koy bunca çift arasına 
Yalnızlığımı anlıyor musun? . 

Tut ki otobüs duraklarında ağlıyorum 
Tırnaklarımı yiyorum hıncımdan. 
Tut ki geceler bir hançer gibi saplanıyor bağrıma 
Bir hançer gibi utanmadan.. 

Ben asiyim, isyankarım yaşamalar arasında 
Mutluluğun inadına yumuyorum gözlerimi. 
Susmuşsam, dayanıyorsam, katlanıyorsam erkekçe 
Anla biraz 
Biraz duy beni.. 

Bu kahpece terkediliş yok mu 
Ellerinin kurtuluşu yok mu ellerimden. 
Gözlerin gözlerime yabancı bakmıyor mu 
Ölüyör kalbim kendiliğinden.. 

Artık bu şarkıyı hatırlama 
Bu şehri, bu sokakları aklından çıkar. 
Yaprak dökümü demişler adına 
Bu da bir aşkta bir sonbahar.. 

Dedim ya 
Bu da bir aşkta bir sonbahar. 

Bir gece düşün şimdi sonbahardan 
Uğultulu, soğuk ve yoksul 
Ve bir adam düşün parklarda sabahlıyan..
 

Erdoğan Çokduru

IF...

It is not that important to leave and go
if it didn't leave gaps behind
that are impossible to fill.

Even the big separations are not that hard to endure,
if they were started at the best moment.

Crying is not something to be ashamed of,
if the tears are coming from the heart.

Stealing is not disgraceful,
if it is the heart of somebody that is stolen.

Love has nothing to be afraid of,
if one could get rid of all skins.

A known voice would not make one so upset,
if it was never heard.

The leakproof embraces would perhaps be forgotten more easily,
if they were not wrapped with passionate love.

The big hazel eyes would head to uncertainty as time passes,
if they didn't look so crazy.

It would perhaps be easy to forget the burning taste of a wet kiss,
if the heart did not press on the rib cage that hard.

The long night conversations could be replaced by something else,
if the last cigarette was not shared breath by breath.

It wouldn't snow even on the dreams,
if the fears had not wounded love in the battles.

Time, still as if it will never pass, would fly like an arrow,
if the one that's worth waiting for would come at the end.

Even the color of the hair in the dreams would fade away with time,
if their inexpressible smell had not stuck on the pillows.

Even that huge, that splendid end, death, would lose its meaning,
If everything worth living was already lived.

Loneliness would not be that unbearable,
If the final glimmer of hope had not faded away.

The spring sun perhaps would not heat this much,
if life did not start again after every loss.

It would perhaps not be necessary to smoke before breakfast,
if a giant wave of longing did not challenge.

Maybe the thin waist would remain in memories,
if even the shameless tea was not given in a thin-waisted glass.

Sleeplessness would not ruin that badly right after short naps,
if the silk skin to touch was not that far away.

Even a jobless home could turn to paradise maybe,
if it was heated by a warm smile.

Poems with the taste of aged wine would not feel as poor,
if there was someone to whisper them to.

It would perhaps not be possible to believe that every love hides a separation deep inside,
if it did not have on its calling card the label 'first degree perpetrator of so many separations'.

Daisies would not really look down,
if they did not have their shares from your betrayal.

Coasts would not surrender to solitude,
if you did not try to console yourself with aimless strolls on your own faint coasts.

I will be alone after you go.
and I am not afraid of being alone,
but what if I want to hold your hands...

Yes sweetheart,
Who would miss the smell of the sweat inside your palms,
who would want to lie along your thin fingers,
if these eyes had not witnessed a splendid period in their past!!

Can YUCEL
ABOUT LIVING

I

Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for example-
I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Living is no laughing matter:
you must take it seriously,
so much so and to such a degree
that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,
your back to the wall,
or else in a laboratory
in your white coat and safety glasses,
you can die for people-
even for people whose faces you've never seen,
even though you know living
is the most real, the most beautiful thing.
I mean, you must take living so seriously
that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees-
and not for your children, either,
but because although you fear death you don't believe it,
because living, I mean, weighs heavier.


II




Let's say you're seriously ill, need surgery -
which is to say we might not get
from the white table.
Even though it's impossible not to feel sad
about going a little too soon,
we'll still laugh at the jokes being told,
we'll look out the window to see it's raining,
or still wait anxiously
for the latest newscast ...
Let's say we're at the front-
for something worth fighting for, say.
There, in the first offensive, on that very day,
we might fall on our face, dead.
We'll know this with a curious anger,
but we'll still worry ourselves to death
about the outcome of the war, which could last years.
Let's say we're in prison
and close to fifty,
and we have eighteen more years, say,
before the iron doors will open.
We'll still live with the outside,
with its people and animals, struggle and wind-
I mean with the outside beyond the walls.
I mean, however and wherever we are,
we must live as if we will never die.


III

This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet-
I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
in pitch-black space ...
You must grieve for this right now
-you have to feel this sorrow now-
for the world must be loved this much
if you're going to say ``I lived'' ...


Nazim Hikmet
February, 1948
SEVGİ VE ÖZGÜRLÜK

Bir kimseyi sevmenin ne demek olduğunu biliyor musunuz? Bir ağacı, bir kuşu ya da bakıp gözettiğiniz bir evcik hayvanı sevebilir misiniz? Size hiç karşılık vermese, gölgesinden de yararlanmasanız arkanızdan da gelmese, size bağımlılık da duymasa gene de sevebilir misiniz? Çoğumuz böyle bir sevgiye kapalıyız. Çoğumuz bu biçimde sevemeyiz, çünkü bizim için sevgi her zaman kaygıyla tedirginlikle kıskançlıkla korkuyla çevrelenmiştir. Yalnızca sevip sevgiyi orada bırakmak istemiyoruz. Sevip de sevmekle yetinemiyoruz, sevgimize bir karşılık bekliyoruz. Bu isteğimizle de başka bir kimseye bağlı olmuş oluyoruz.

İşte bunun için sevin ve bununla yetinin. Sevgi bir tepki değildir. Eğer siz "beni severseniz ben de sizi severim" diyorsanız bunun adına ticaret denir. Alış veriş denir. O zaman sevgi pazarda alınıp satılacak bir şey olur buna sevgi denmez. Sevmek bir karşılık beklememektir. Sevdiğiniz zaman bir şeyi verdiğinizi bile düşünmemelisiniz. Ancak böyle bir sevgi özgürlükle uzaklaşabilir. Ama biliyorsunuz siz bu tür bir sevgi için eğitilmediniz. Size matematik öğrettiler, kimya öğrettiler, coğrafya, tarih öğrettiler, hepsi bu kadar.

Çünkü ananızın babanızın istediği sizin iyi bir iş sahibi olmanıza yaşamınızda başarılı olmanıza yardımcı olmaktı. Eğer ananız babanız paralı kimselerse sizi yabancı ülkelerde eğitirler. Ama dünyadaki başka insanlar gibi tüm amaçları sizin varlıklı bir insan olmanız toplumda saygın bir yer doldurmanızdır; siz de daha yukarılara tırmandıkça başka insanların daha da mutsuz daha da dertli olmalarına neden olursunuz. Çünkü başarılı olmak için yarışmalısınız acımasız olmalısınız. Onun için analar babalar çocuklarını başarılı olmaya özendirildikleri yarıştırıldıkları ama sevginin olmadığı okullara gönderiyorlar onun için de çekişme didişme içinde kokuşmuş bir toplumda yaşıyoruz, politikacılar, yargıçlar, toprak ağaları barıştan söz ediyorlarsa da, onların sözlerinin hiçbir anlamı yok.

Şimdi birlikte bu özgürlük sorununu iyice anlamaya çalışalım: sevmenin ne demek olduğunu kendi kendimize bulmalıyız. Eğer sevgiyi tanımıyorsak hiçbir zaman başkalarını düşünüp ilgilendiren başkalarının incitmemeye çalışan insanlar olamayız. Eğer yalın ayak dolaşan insanların geçtiği bir yolda sivri bir taş görürseniz bunu kaldırın. Sizin böyle yapmanızı istedikleri için değil de içinizde hiç tanımayacağınız, hiç rastlamayacağınız kimselere karşı bir duygu olduğu için yapın.

Bir ağaç dikip onu büyütmek ırmağın akan sularını seyretmek, dünyanın güzelliğinin keyfine varmak, uçan bir kuşu izlemek ve uçuşunun güzelliğini fark etmek, yaşam adı verilen bu olağanüstü olaylar zincirine duyarlı olmak bütün bunlar özgür olmayı gerektiriyor. Özgürlük için insanın içinde sevgi olmalı sevgi olmasa özgürlük hiçbir değeri olmayan bir kavramdan başka bir şey değildir. Onun için duygusal ruhsal bağlılığın ne olduğunu iyice anlayıp bu tür bağlardan kendilerini koparamayanlar bu yüzden de sevginin ne olduğunu bilmeyenler için özgürlük diye bir şey olamaz. Ancak özgür insan yeni bir uygarlık değişik bir dünya yaratabilir.

''Jiddu Krishnamurti''