baritonlari sevdim. Romantikligin altina saklanan bir arabesktim. Ruhi Su, Fischer Dieskau, Carlos Gardel; hepsi ayni seydi benim icin. Iste pablo nerudanin oldugu gibi:
Yazabilirim en huzunlu dizeleri bu gece
Yazabilirim, ornegin, "Gece yaldizli,
ve titriyor mavi, yildizlar uzakta"
Ruzgar donuyor gokte ve sarki soyluyor
en huzunlu dizeleri yazabilirim bu gece
Sevdim onu, ve kimi zaman o da sevdi beni
Bu gibi gecelerde tuttum onu kollarimda
Optum onu defalarca sonsuz gokyuzu altinda
Sevdi beni ve kimi zaman ben de sevdim onu
Nasil sevilmez onun buyuk, durgun gozleri?
Yazabilirim en huzunlu dizeleri bu gece
Dusunurken ona sahip olmadigimi, hissederken onu kaybettigimi
Dinlerken buyuk geceyi, onsuz daha buyuk
ve dusuyor dize ruha, cigin dustugu gibi kira
Ne farkeder sevgim onu tutamadiysa
Gece yildizli ve o degil yanimda
Hepsi bu. Uzakta sarki soyluyor biri. Uzakta.
Ruhum memnun degil onu kaybetmis olmaktan.
Yaklasabilecekmis gibi ariyor bakisim onu
Kalbim onu ariyor ve o degil yanimda
Ayni gece ayni agaclari beyazlatan
Biz, o zamanki biz, ayni degiliz
Sevmiyorum onu, dogrusu bu; fakat nasil da sevdim onu
Ne kisa ask ve ne uzun unutus
Cunku bunun gibi gecelerde o kollarimda tuttum onu
Ruhum memnun degil onu kaybetmis olmaktan.
Bu bana cektirdigi son aciysa da
ve bunlar ona yazdigim son dizelerse de..
Yazabilirim en huzunlu dizeleri bu gece
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
It was
It was a summer night. There were stars and I mostly likely did show you Orion. One of my cheap show-offs to boys. A tight tight t-shirt, and white jacket and a dark tan inside. I am burning, yet the air is chilly. The second cheap show-off: passion.
I am so freshly back from the Mediterranean that I am readily delusional, delusional to think that you are my ticket to belonging in these chilly, green countries where I do not speak the language and yet remain all-knowing, worldly and sophisticated.
And you are my gentleman. You are the one that should fix his eyes on me, and open the doors for me to pass. Tall, elegant and a good boy.
For me it is always the same story. Why do I need you, him or anybody? it is the same story yet I have grown old in the meantime. I do not miss being in love. I am in love and I loathe it more than anything. I loathe the fact that I told you I liked you first. ( Used to be proud of it ) It feels weak and cheap now. Why good boy is it that I am better off with you? When i am a good girl myself, who knows, a better one than you are maybe. And maybe not. But still.
I am so freshly back from the Mediterranean that I am readily delusional, delusional to think that you are my ticket to belonging in these chilly, green countries where I do not speak the language and yet remain all-knowing, worldly and sophisticated.
And you are my gentleman. You are the one that should fix his eyes on me, and open the doors for me to pass. Tall, elegant and a good boy.
For me it is always the same story. Why do I need you, him or anybody? it is the same story yet I have grown old in the meantime. I do not miss being in love. I am in love and I loathe it more than anything. I loathe the fact that I told you I liked you first. ( Used to be proud of it ) It feels weak and cheap now. Why good boy is it that I am better off with you? When i am a good girl myself, who knows, a better one than you are maybe. And maybe not. But still.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Yorgunum bu aksam
Yagmur yagdi bol bol. Umrumda degil, belki hala yagiyor. Yorgunum bu gece. Usudugumden degil, yalnizliktan degil, yorgunluktan degil; onsuzluktan yorgunum. Hicbir sarkinin yardimi olmadi. Dilimi dondurmeye siir yok. Denedim oysa onu da. Bir anida belki kaybolurum diye baktim fotograflara. Ama fotograflar o degil, anilar o degil. Onu ozledim ben. Yazdim bile ona. Belki icimden cikarirsam hisleri akar gider diye. Olmadi, olmuyor. Eskisi gibi yazilinmiyor, pratigi kaybetmisim. Karnimdan baslayip bogazimla kalbimin arasini sIkIstIran, buna ragmen gozlerime cikmayi basaran huznu bir turlu atamiyorum, anlatamiyorum. Kendime de anlatamiyorum. Uyumam lazim oysa uyku icin huzur gerekir, ruya gerekir. Isiklar kapaniyor karsidaki koca binada. Herkes bir sekilde yasiyor bunu biliyorum, her seye ragmen yasiyor insanciklar. Annem bile yasamaya devam ediyor, 35 yil sonra. Hatta biliyorum ben de yasarim. Nereye donsem bir tarafim kesiliyor yine de, Atilla Ilhanin dedigi uzre.
Rahibeler gibi kapandim manastirima. Degiskenlerden, deyimlerden, atamalardan kendime duvarlar yarattim. Istedigim, tek istedigim buydu. Yine de donuyorum ve...
Rahibeler gibi kapandim manastirima. Degiskenlerden, deyimlerden, atamalardan kendime duvarlar yarattim. Istedigim, tek istedigim buydu. Yine de donuyorum ve...
Damardan
Yanlizlik hizla alcalan bulutlar karanlik bir agirlik
Hava agir toprak agir yaprak agir
Su tozlari yagiyor ustumuze
Ozgurlugumuz yoksa yalnizligimiz midir
Eflatuna calar puslu lacivert bir sis kusatti ormani
Karanlik coktu denize
Yanlizlik cakmak tasi gibi sert elmas gibi keskin
Ne yanina donsen bir yerin kesilir fena kan kaybedersin
Kapini bir calan olmadi mi hele elini bir tutan
Bilekleri bembeyaz kugu boynu parmaklari uzun ve ince
Simsicak bakislari suc ortagi kacamak gulusleri gizlice
Yalnizlarin en buyuk sorunu tek basina ozgurluk ne ise yarayacak
Bir turlu cozemedikleri bu olu bir gezegenin soguk tenhaligina
Benzemesin diye ozgurluk mutlaka paylasilacak suc ortagi bir sevgiliyle
Sanmistik ki ikimiz yeryuzunde ancak birbirimiz icin variz
Ikimiz sanmistik ki tek kisilik bir yalnizliga bile rahatca sigariz
Hic yanilmamisiz her an dusup dusup kristal bir bardak gibi
Tuz parca kirilsak da hala icimizde o yanardag agzi
Hala kipkizil gulumseyen sanki atesten bir tebessum zehir zemberek ASKIMIZ
Litany by Billy Collins
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.
Monday, February 7, 2011
ben senden once olmek isterim
yoklugun gec yenmis agir bir karbonhidrat gibi cokerse mideme,
zamanin sadece yuk tasimak olacagini saniyorum.
cocuklarimiz olur belki onlar icin hayata devam etmek gerekir,
yine sabahlar olur, sonsuz gokyuzleri,
yine de sen olmadikca, her sey eksik kalir, her sey agir gelir.
yoklugunda ogrendigim, sensiz de yasanir, gulmek mumkun olur,
ama denizler durgun kalir, anlar birbirine karisir,
ve de geriye hicbir sey kalmaz o hammallik yapilmis gunlerden.
bilirsin her zaman bende bir sey birakanin sevdalisi oldum ben.
sense, bugun dusundugum uzre, benim yillarimi an an yasanmisliklara
cevirensin. hic okumayacak olsan da bunlari, bilmesen de,
onemli olan , en azindan bence, baktigimda geriye seninle hep bir agizdan
yasadigimizdir. Gerisi... unuttum bile.
zamanin sadece yuk tasimak olacagini saniyorum.
cocuklarimiz olur belki onlar icin hayata devam etmek gerekir,
yine sabahlar olur, sonsuz gokyuzleri,
yine de sen olmadikca, her sey eksik kalir, her sey agir gelir.
yoklugunda ogrendigim, sensiz de yasanir, gulmek mumkun olur,
ama denizler durgun kalir, anlar birbirine karisir,
ve de geriye hicbir sey kalmaz o hammallik yapilmis gunlerden.
bilirsin her zaman bende bir sey birakanin sevdalisi oldum ben.
sense, bugun dusundugum uzre, benim yillarimi an an yasanmisliklara
cevirensin. hic okumayacak olsan da bunlari, bilmesen de,
onemli olan , en azindan bence, baktigimda geriye seninle hep bir agizdan
yasadigimizdir. Gerisi... unuttum bile.
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