omrumsworld

Archive for the month “August, 2013”

FROM CHAPTER 5 -2 (Thursday, August 29, 2013)

Tall trees by the stream
A swing stretched between two
Merry voices come closer
Go farther
The feet in the stream are ice cold
Whitened
Translucent
Lifeless and distant like plastic
The sun plays with the leaves opens ajar
The Gate to Dreams
The World rocks
Sky blends to earth
The branches
To hopes

Do the children die when they go to sleep
With an amber afternoon in their eyes?

(Dere kıyısında ulu ağaçlar
Ağaçlara gerili bir salıncak
Neşeli sesler bir yaklaşır
Bir uzaklaşır
Buz gibidir derede ayaklar
Beyaza kesmiş
Şeffaf
Plastik gibi cansız ve uzak
Yapraklarla oynaşan güneş
Düş kapısını aralar önce
Sallanır dünya
Gökyüzü toprağa karışır
Dallar umutlara

Uykuya yatınca ölür mü çocuklar?
Gözlerinde bal rengi bir öğleden sonra.)

FROM CHAPTER 5 -1 (Thursday, August 29, 2013)

The war is over
Silence prevails in the prairie
A mellow breeze caresses
The dead faces
Mom’s calloused hands
On the children’s cheeks
Very soft
Very warm

Soon the night will settle
Grasp the confused souls
The leaves will sing a lullaby in low voice
I will muffle up in my blanket
And sleep peacefully
In the arms of memories.

(Savaş bitti
Sessizlik hüküm sürüyor ovada
Ilık bir esinti
Cansız yüzleri okşuyor
Nasırlı anne eli
Çocukların yanaklarında
Yumuşacık
Sıcacık

Birazdan gece çöker
Kavrar şaşkın ruhları
Yapraklar bir ninni tutturur inceden
Battaniyeme sarılır
Usulca uyurum
Anılarımın kollarında.)

FROM CHAPTER FOUR -2 (Monday, August 26, 2013)

Let’s go away, my Love
Let’s go
Silently
Leaving everything behind
But at an early hour
In the morning
While the birds are about to wake up
And the moon has not waved good-bye yet
Before the errand-boy shows up in the street
Crusts in the eyes
A love song in his heart
When the butcher’s cat rises his butt to stretch
Let’s pull the door gently
Tiptoe down the stairs one by one
The sun would enter our eyes and
The morning breeze would caress our hair

The night wraps the souls
Balms the bleeding wounds
Singing a long-lost lullaby
Rocks in its arms
Then we would stay

Let’s go in the morning
Yes,
In the morning.

(Gidelim sevgilim buralardan
Tası tarağı bırakıp
Sessizce gidelim
Sabah ama
Erkence bir saatte
Kuşlar henüz uyanır
Ay daha veda etmemiş iken
Bakkal çırağı
Gözünde çapakları
Yüreğinde sevda türküsü
Sokağa girmeden önce
Kasabın kedisi poposunu havaya dikmiş
Gerinirken
Kapıyı yavaşça çekelim
Parmak uçlarında inelim basamakları bir bir
Uykulu gözlerimize güneş girsin
Sabah rüzgarı okşasın saçlarımızı

Gece sarıp sarmalar ruhları
Kanayan yaralara merhem olur
Bir ninni tutturur uzak geçmişten
Sallar kucağında
Kalırız öylece

Sabah gidelim
Sabah.)

FROM CHAPTER FOUR (Monday, August 26, 2013)

A fresh autumn weather outside
White roses have blossomed
The street smells linden
The peach tree will produce much less this year
I’m hopeful about the apple
Its fruits will redden day by day
Some infested though
The magpie will wink at the tabby cat
The earthworms are going to work indeed hard

The sun is right at the top with its golden crown

For some reason
My heart is cold

(Dışarıda taptaze bahar havası
Beyaz güller açmış
Ihlamur kokuyor sokak
Şeftali bu yıl az meyve verecek
Elmadan yana umutluyum
Her gün biraz daha kızaracak
Kurtlanacak bazıları
Saksağan göz kırpacak Tekir’e
Solucanlarda bir faaliyet
Bir faaliyet

Güneş altın tacıyla tam tepemde

Nedense yüreğim üşüyor.)

FROM CHAPTER THREE (Sunday, August 25, 2013)

The morning breeze gets up from sleep fresh
Wraps the empty streets like a silk veil
Dreams have already flown from the windows
And reached the Purple Mountains

My longing quenches its thirst at a dew drop
Suddenly I become a child
A wooden table under the mulberry
Blue squares on white textile
Sliced feta cheese
Black olives in thymed olive oil
Deep yellow butter
The jam smells sweet roses
Hot
Steaming village bread
Hey! Don’t cut it!
You must tear off a piece
Then blow into your burnt hands
The garden as big as the world
The garden a complete universe

One should not grow much

Yet
A black bush is by the shore
A heart
Attached to it.

***

(Sabah rüzgarı üşenmeden doğrulur yatağından
İpek bir tül gibi sarmalar tenha sokakları
Düşler açık pencerelerden çıkıp gitmiş
Mor dağlara ulaşmıştır çoktan

Çiy damlasında susuzluğunu giderir özlemim
Birden çocuk oluveririm
Dut ağacının altında ahşap bir masa
Beyaz üzerine mavi kareli dokuma
Dilimlenmiş beyaz peynir
Kekikli zeytinyağında siyah zeytin
Sapsarı tereyağı
Mis gibi gül kokmakta reçel
Sıcak
Dumanı tüten köy ekmeği
Kesilmez ha!
Koparacaksın bir parça
Yanan ellerini üfleyeceksin sonra
Bahçe dünya kadar büyük
Bahçe tüm bir evren

Daha büyümemeli insan

Oysa kıyıda kara bir çalı
Çalıya bir yürek takılı.)

FROM CHAPTER TWO (Saturday, August 24, 2013)

The big plane tree burned down
It blazed at an autumn night
The flames fell down to water
Carried away with the current
Stars rained
The sun smiled
Days followed days
The night wrapped the souls silently

You know what they say:
All rivers fall into the sea
What about the parched branches
Carried along?

(Yandı koca çınar
Tutuştu bir sonbahar gecesi
Suya düştü alevler
Akıntıyla sürüklendi uzaklara
Yıldız yağdı
Güneş açtı
Gün güne devrildi
Gece sarmaladı ruhları sessizce

Ne derler bilirsin
Su yolunu bulurmuş
Ya sürüklediği kavruk dallar?)

***

I’ve got games to play
I add this to that
And keep myself busy

I open and close the sky
Shake the trees
Winking to the sea
I handle the boats one by one
Gently in my palm
Then I whirl them to dust
Cut a dress to the girl across the street
Pour a bowl of milk for Minnie and
Go to an afternoon sleep

I die right there
Instantly.

(Oyunlarım var
Oyunlarım
Onu bunu katar
Eylerim kendimi

Gökyüzünü açar kaparım
Ağaçları sallarım şöyle bir
Denize göz kırpıp
Tekneleri elime alırım birer birer
Avucumda nazikçe tutarım
Sonra savurup giderim toza dumana
Elbise biçerim karşı camdaki kıza
Minnoşa bir tas süt koyar
Öğle uykusuna yatarım

Ölürüm o anda
Oracıkta.)

FROM CHAPTER ONE (Friday, August 23, 2013)

The seagull with a broken wing
Stood against the night
Pearl drops on wet stones
Heart flutter in the navy sky
”Whoever is lost in the waves
We are to be accounted for his dreams”

*****

(Geceye durdu kanadı kırık martı
Islak taşlarda inci taneleri
Lacivert gökyüzünde yürek çırpıntısı
‘’Her kim ki kaybolur dalgalarda
Bizden sorulur onun düşleri’’.)

ANOTHER NOTE

Dear all,

As you know, I write daily and post the poems here in my blog. Three days ago, something happened. A man came, an uninvited guest, older than I am, living alone and poked me to write his story. I don’t know even his name. All I have is that he has thinning hair and long slender fingers, introverted, and maybe boring. I told him I’ve been writing poems for the last year, but he pointed at the two novels I wrote and added it could well include some poetic parts. I said I can’t do that because he doesn’t talk much and I know women much better than men, that I can’t imagine what they think, how they feel, etc. He said I do. With no working excuses, I had to give in. But I must admit I was, and still am, pissed off with this bold attitude and intervention in my privacy! The two former novels were different. I was willing to welcome the characters and we had a good cooperation, although it is true that I felt used at the end. Because as you all know, your characters first sneak in, very polite, respectful, and understanding. They soon show up their true faces and grasp your soul and mind until they are done with you – that is, until you tell their whole story. And as soon as you do so, they leave you like an empty cloak falling down on the floor with no sign of life.

Therefore, this elderly guy made a polite entrance with begging eyes to tell his story. What could be his story? An ordinary man who had an ordinary and boring life? No unexpected turns, no action to rise the interest of the readers, that is, he is one of us. But something about him attracted me and I gave in.

For the first time, I’m writing in Turkish, my native language. This thrills me. There are so great authors who have mastered Turkish and sing while they write. There are some very young writers, as well. I felt very discouraged and unwilling to write in my own language fearing I would mess up with it. Now that shyness is a little bit lighter, I give it a try.

I work as a full-time academician and doctor. I may not have time to write poems daily as I did yesterday. What I plan is to post the poems or poem-like parts of the story in English, but this may not be regular.

I’ll keep in touch with many of you. Meanwhile, stay well, be happy and create, create, create…. It is true that everything that could be said is said, every single story has been told, but not in your words. There is a big mountain of stories waiting for you.

Love,

Omrum

INTRO (Wednesday, August 21, 2013)

The birds have also flown away
Behind the Purple Mountains
What remains is a very heavy loneliness
The heart emptied
The mind not taken by surprise.

***

I stood by the mirror
Looked at my face closely
First my thinning hair
The lines in my forehead
The color of my eyes
How my eyelids were standing
The fine wrinkles at the corners
I opened my eyes as wide as I could
Rolled to the right
Then left
My nose
Freckles on my nose
My thick pale lips
Slightly purple
As if cold
Beard grown a little since last night
A sign of Life
A sign
That I am alive
Flesh and bones

As you can see, I examined thoroughly
The stranger looking at me at the mirror
In a fragile autumn morning

I heard it somewhere that
Beard grows for a while
After one is dead.

***

Her eyes were seaweed
Soft
Shameless
Slimy
If it were not him struggle like crazy
They would catch him by the feet and pull
Into the green blurry depth

I shut my eyes
Now I am in me.

CLUELESS (Tuesday, August 20, 2013)

First, my heart skipped a beat

The Moon startled
The Lake smoldered
Trees bent over the traces in awe
Hundreds of wings fluttered like a swelling wave
White roses bloomed and withered in seconds

Meanwhile
Calloused fingers wandered on the strings ingeniously
A crazy melody rose shouting and screaming
It wrapped the starry sky
Tucked it in a broadcloth sac of a hand-size and
Hurled off sight

Hush!

It must be on the way.

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