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Ever Since Atatürk Passed Away

What marvellous season, autumn was
Twas nothing but a mad breeze that pillaged gardens
Broken branch, fallen leaf, flying birds were all surprised
Once, autumn got the beauty
 
However, ever since Atatürk passed away
Even autumn comes an odd, wretched
Helps us remember the truth about Fatherland
Suddens our Turkish hearts meanwhile
 

Atatürk

Atatürk has leaned onto the map of Fatherland
I haven't seen such nights on his face before
What could Atatürk do to cure the Fatherland
It flew away, those old remedies flew away!
 
Where are the merry days of the War of Independence
Triumph we got against numerous foes
Don't think that dawn will break as it did that day
My Atatürk has said that he was not the man to die
 
Go, brother, citizen go rub the soil on your face
He is the one who will worry about us
Even in his pictures, he is the one who always thinks
My Atatürk is the one who wants to rest in peace!
 

Let's go, Abbas

Let's go, Abbas, time is up
You said evening, now is evening
Set our drinking bout
Let our heartaches end
Along with the pool
Set it beneath that tree
Tell moon to rise
Let it demonstrate as I wish
To magical scatter of mine
Show us that you command the distance
And time
Kick up the dust
Let's go, Abbas!
''That's what Cahit said''
Go, bring the new lover fron Beşiktaş
I want to live my youth over again
 

Today is Friday

Today is Friday
I remember my grandmother
Thereby my childhood
Wish those days lasted longer
Days which I regularly remember
 
The way I believed in those days
If there was truly an afterlife
If it was friday there as well
With white head scarf on her head
She would perform the salaat
No unreleated hand can touch her scatter
Her scatter that has been brought from Mecca
 
I hope she won't forget me in her pray
Bearing in mind that I'm sinful
 

Naked

In the sleepless night of mine
On the moon shine your eyes
Like snows your body is
Her hair is nothing but golden treasure
 
You know neither about my fire
Nor that you are naked
Without knowing your wealth nor poverty
She is merry and happy
 

The Benumbed Dead

A tidy woman passed
By my grave yesterday
I watched her
Treasure-like pins
Of which got my night ruined
You wouldn't believe if I tell you so
But I'd want to give her
The kerchief she dropped
I forgot I was dead
 

The Silence in My Life

Without rattles, without guide this caravan find their ways
Without showing their silken goods
Everlasting, just as the sand lays side by side
My life will go on just as I told, without giving a sound out
 
And thus this life, this life every minute
Will melt the way ice melts itself
No one will ever know me, except for
The stars in the sky and the wolves on the ground
 

Thirty five years

Versions: #2
Thirty five years! It is the halfway of the road.
We are in the middle of our life, just like Dante
To beg, to invoke is vain today.
without pitying your tear,
The ore of our youth goes away.
 
Did it snow on my temples, what is this?
My god, is this wrinkled face mine?
What is with the dark circles under the eyes?
The mirrors I’ve known as a friend for years,
Why do you seem like a foe?
 
How do people change among the time?
Whatever photo of mine I look at, that is not me.
Where are those days, that spirit, that excitement?
This man with a smile on his face- that is not me
‘Tis a lie- that I have been carefree, a lie.
 
Our first love, the dreams
even the memory of those seem unfamiliar.
The roads separated with those
whom we started to walk together with.
Our loneliness keeps on growing.
 
I found out late that the rocks are hard,
that the sky had another color too,
and that water drowns and fire burns.
It seems people understand at this age,
that every new day is a sorrow.
 
Yellow quinces and red fall!
I keep getting familiar with those every year.
Why do the birds keep wheeling around?
Where did this funeral come from? Who is dead?
 
How many ravaged gardens have I seen?
What is left to do? The death is upon everyone,
You will sleep and will not wake up,
God knows where, how and how old.
You will have the reign for one prayer
Just like a throne, on the gravestone.
 

Robinson

Robinson, my clever Robinson
you don't know how I envy you.
If you could only show me your island,
there I would find peace of mind.
 
I'll be the ship, you be the captain.
We can unfurl the sail one morning.
The sea becomes our shadow in the sun.
The journey. And suddenly we're at our island.
 
I wish you could be my interpreter,
introduce me to the fish,
to wild birds and flowers,
say to them about me: `He's one of us.'
 
I know how to climb trees.
I can tell a fruit that's ripe.
I can also manage breaking stones,
making fires, cooking food.
 
Robinson, understanding Robinson,
if your island hasn't sunk yet
take me there
before the seaways close.
 
All of my work is dedicated to Ms Z. G., who is the real counterpart of Beatrice Portinari for me.